I Turn to You
by Lirallya
Summary: Two years after the war, Hermione Granger began her Healer training. So did Draco Malfoy. Neither of them anticipated the friendship that would ensue. And neither of them were prepared for the romance that would follow. DM/HG.
1. Prologue

**I Turn To You**

_A DM/HG Story_

**A/N:** Set two years after the war ended. Consider the events of DH to be accurate, save the epilogue. May take some liberties, but they will be explained if there is a significant divergence from the canon.

Story title comes from the Christina Aguliera song of the same name. Don't judge. :P

**Disclaimer:** The wonderful J.K. Rowling owns everything. I just use her characters for my own twisted pleasure.

* * *

**PROLOUGE**

_Hermione jumped when a series of loud bangs interrupted her reading. It took her a moment to realize that the sound was someone knocking repeatedly on the front door of her flat. She set her book aside and called out, "Coming!" as she headed towards the foyer. But the knocking did not cease. If anything, it became more insistent. When Hermione reached the door, she peered out of the peep-hole and was startled to see a pair of gray eyes, darting around wildly under a fringe of blonde hair. Hermione felt a moment's hesitation before unlocking the deadbolt._

_Draco barreled into the room, nearly knocking Hermione off her feet. He slammed the door behind him, locking it hastily. Hermione could not help but be frightened; she had never seen Draco in such a state. He looked like an animal, panicking, running from something..._

"_Draco... what's the matter? What's happened?" Hermione questioned nervously. _

_He did not seem to hear her. He dashed around the flat, glancing out the windows, checking every corner for some unknown threat. _

"_Draco!" She called again. Standing in the middle of her living room with her hands on her hips, she looked ever so much like Molly Weasley. _

_Draco stopped moving abruptly, as if he had just realized she was in the room. He quickly closed the distance between them, and grabbed her firmly by the shoulders. She looked questioningly into his eyes. Normally cool and almost emotionless at times, his eyes were instead wide with fear and a desperation she had rarely seen there before. Hermione was scared now. _

"_Hermione, you must listen to me. You have to get out of here. I – I need you to trust me." He looked at her so intensely then that she felt her breath catch in her throat. _

"_Why? What's going on?" She demanded. Hermione was never one to take things without question._

_Draco removed a hand from her shoulder and raked it through his hair. "No time to explain. We have to leave now!" _

"_But–" _

"_Hermione, please!" Draco pleaded. _

_Hermione stood still for a moment. If it wasn't for the complete shock of his disheveled appearance, the urgency in his voice, and that haunted look in his eyes, she would have crossed her arms and demanded a satisfactory explanation. But she knew that this was serious. _

"_I'll need to pack a few things," she said simply. _

_Draco sagged with relief. "Thank you for understanding. Please hurry." _

_Hermione immediately headed to her bedroom and grabbed a large canvas bag off the back of her desk chair. She quickly stuffed clothing and underthings in along with the few necessities she thought she might need; toothbrush, some money–both Muggle and not–and her small potions satchel. Stuffing her wand into her jeans pocket, Hermione grabbed a cloak off the back of her door and returned to the living room. _

_Draco was pacing furiously. When she entered the room, he looked up at her, and the faintest of smiles graced his lips. He rushed over to her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He pulled back slightly, cupping her cheek with his hand. He had a hopeless look in his eyes. _

"_Hermione... whatever you may hear, I beg you not to believe it. No matter what, please remember that you know me better than anyone, and trust your own judgements. Promise me that," Draco pleaded. _

_Hermione was confused. "What am I going to hear? What sort of–" Draco cut her off once more._

"_Please, just promise me this. I need to hear it." His tone became more urgent, as if the rest of his life was hanging on her response. _

"_Draco, I'm confused..."_

"_Hermione! Please!" Tears were forming in the corners of exquisite gray eyes. Hermione felt weak. She could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Draco Malfoy cry, and did not take that lightly. _

"_Okay, Draco. I promise." _

_He smiled, and for that fleeting instant, his eyes retained a joyful warmth that was almost as rare as his tears. "I love you, Hermione." _

_As Draco pressed his soft lips to hers, a blinding flash of light erupted from the hallway. _

_Hermione screamed. _


	2. The Bookworm and the Beast

**CHAPTER ONE**

The Bookworm and the Beast

Hermione Granger adjusted her new lime green robes as she prepared to enter St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. She caught her reflection in the window of Purge and Dowse, Ltd. and smiled, despite her distaste for such a bold color. The words "Trainee Healer" gleamed beneath the St. Mungo's insignia, a crossed wand and bone. Today Hermione would start her training to become a Healer. She bounced on the balls of her feet, barely able to contain her excitement. It had not always been her desired career, but things had changed over the past year.

After what was supposed to be her seventh year at Hogwarts, Hermione (along with Harry, Ron, and several others who missed the majority of their schooling) was awarded an honorary diploma. No professor would argue that Hermione was unqualified. Headmistress McGonagall herself had recommended Hermione to the internship that she then undertook in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office at the Ministry of Magic After a year of working as an intern, she had decided that a job in such a bureaucratic setting was simply not for her. Hermione wanted a more hands-on job in which she could directly help people. She considered other options within the Ministry, but nothing seemed to fit. And though she hated to leave her work with magical creatures, she knew that a career in that department would not satisfy her. She was, however, still extremely passionate and involved in affairs of house-elf rights, and other such marginalized creatures. She had many useful contacts in the Ministry after her year of working there, so she did not feel as though she had given up on the creatures that so needed her help.

Thus again with recommendation from McGonagall, as well as her superiors at the Ministry, Hermione applied and was accepted to the St. Mungo's program. It seemed natural to her; a challenging career that would allow her to constantly study and learn. She was looking forward to being in a learning environment once more, for she thrived off of the academic atmosphere. Hermione was also thrilled that she would be able to help people in such a close, personal way. She had seen so many people affected by the war–dark curses, potions, etc.–and she wanted to find a way to ease the suffering in the world.

Just as she was about to enter, a voice called from behind her. "Oi, wait up!"

Hermione turned to see a young man, also dressed in robes of lime green, crossing the street towards her. She didn't recognize the boy, with chestnut-colored hair and an easy smile. But she supposed he must know her. Hermione was, after all, rather famous for her involvement in destroying Voldemort and her association with Harry Potter.

The boy was slightly out of breath when he reached Hermione. "You're Hermione Granger!" he said animatedly.

Hermione felt a flush creep up into her cheeks. "Well spotted." It came out slightly harsher than she had intended, and the boy's smile faltered a bit. "What's your name?" she added quickly, making sure to smile warmly.

The boy recovered his grin. "Edwin Chambers. I was a year below you at Hogwarts. Ravenclaw. Don't think we ever spoke, but I know who you are of course. Being best friends with Harry Potter and all."

Hermione was always astounded how many people knew who she was simply by virtue of being friends with Harry. "Well, it's nice to meet you Edwin. Shall we walk in together?"

Edwin nodded, and the two headed into St. Mungo's. The place was abuzz with activity. Hermione had to hold back a gasp as she passed an old wizard with a gnarled tree growing out of his head. Luckily, a stout red-haired witch caught sight of them before Hermione could be caught staring.

"Trainees! This way!" she called. Hermione and Edwin headed towards her. "Second floor, class room number 217," the witch wheezed. She handed them each a lime green folder and pointed them up the stairs.

Hermione and Edwin found the classroom without too much trouble. (They were almost accosted by a crazed witch with Dragon Pox, but were able to slip past.) They entered and sat together at the same lab table at the front of the classroom. Hermione looked around the room and did not recognize any of the other students present. She didn't really expect to, and she didn't mind so much. She just wasn't used to school without Ron and Harry as her constant companions.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted by their instructor's entrance. Healer Blarney was a stooped, wispy old wizard who looked as though a strong gust of wind could carry him off.

"Good morning, Trainees," he spoke in a surprisingly commanding voice. "And welcome to St. Mung–"

Healer Blarney was cut off by the sound of the door opening. Hermione silently "tsk'ed" the late-comer.

"Sorry I'm late. Won't happen again," came the new-comer's voice.

Hermione started. She recognized that silky drawl anywhere. Turning around, she found herself looking into the eyes of Draco Malfoy.

She was sure that a pained expression crossed her face. Memories of all the cruel things Malfoy had done and said during their Hogwarts years came rushing into her mind at full force. Despite the fact that she knew Malfoy had renounced his old ways, she could not stop the surge of old prejudices. It was difficult to ignore the tormenting and outright cruelty that she had experienced. She had lost count of the number of times Malfoy had called her a "Mudblood" or made some snide remark about her appearance and eagerness in class.

Hermione also had a brief but powerful flashback to her torture via the Cruciatus Curse that had taken place in Malfoy's own home, administered by his none other than his aunt. She tried to keep these memories at bay, but it was difficult to keep them from surfacing every so often. Hermione inhaled sharply and forced her thoughts back to the present.

She also resolved to try and give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt, and spared him the glowering looks that her classmates were giving him. Regardless of their past, Hermione couldn't help but feel a little bad for Malfoy. This was going to be a tough year for him.

*****

Draco Malfoy stared at Purge and Dowse, Ltd. for a long moment before he decided to head inside. He was already a few minutes late, but his nerves had kept him standing on the sidewalk rather than allowing him to enter the building. He silently cursed himself for thinking it was a good idea to enroll in the Trainee Healer program at St. Mungo's. The shocking lime green robes alone were enough to make him think twice about going through with it.

"What the bloody hell was I thinking?" he muttered aloud.

Life had been rough for Draco since the end of the war. His parents had both been thrown in Azkaban. Narcissa had received a reduced sentence due to her aid to Harry Potter, but she would still be imprisoned for several years. Draco, like the other sons and daughters of Death Eaters his age, had been given a second chance. The Ministry felt it a case of "they didn't know any better" and allowed them to rebuild their lives.

Only it wasn't so simple. The once haughty, rich crowd of Slytherin youths became disinherited as the Ministry seized their parents' assets. Draco was more fortunate than most; he had received a trust fund once he'd come of age that was in his own name, and therefore not subject to seizure by the Ministry. The Malfoys had been richer than most, but such families as the Notts and the Parkinsons were brought to ruin. Theodore and Pansy, like many others, had to get jobs and live on their own. Draco was able to finagle a deal that allowed him to retain Malfoy manor.

Despite his relative financial stability, Draco and the Malfoy name was nothing short of mud in Wizarding society. Even though Draco had failed to follow through on the tasks Voldemort had set for him, people still regarded him with suspicion and sometimes blatant hatred.

He also struggled with the things he had seen and done during the war. His own cowardice haunted his nightmares as he relived the times where he had stood by and done nothing while his classmates and peers were tortured by the men and women he was raised to consider family.

Draco wanted nothing more than to be free of the associations of his past and simply move on with his life. Thus, he had enrolled in the Trainee Healer program at St. Mungo's. After a year of sulking about Malfoy Manor, drinking himself into a stupor, he had decided it was time for a change.

But now as Draco stood in front of the building, he was having second thoughts. What if he was rubbish at being a Healer? What if the other students refused to work with him because he had been a Death Eater? He sighed and tried to push these doubts out of his mind. He was a Malfoy, and regardless of what that might have come to mean, Malfoys did not let what other people might think concern them. Draco wanted to be a Healer, and a Healer he would be. With a renewed resolve and a deep breath, Draco walked into St. Mungo's. He realized that he had no idea where he was supposed to go, so he approached the Welcome Witch.

"Excuse me, but where are the Trainees supposed to go?"

The Welcome Witch regarded him without enthusiasm. "Second Floor. Room 217."

"Thank you."

"Try being punctual the next time!" she called after him as he bounded up the stairs.

Draco found the classroom with no trouble, but cursed under his breath when he realized the instructor had already begun. "So much for good first impressions," he thought dully. He swung open the door and apologized for being late in the smoothest voice he could muster. At his words, Draco noticed a girl with wavy brown hair in the front of the room jump slightly. When she turned, Draco was stunned to realize who it was.

_Granger!_ he thought sharply. She was looking at him a mixture of fear and hatred. And Draco knew that he deserved every ounce of hatred in that look. He knew that Hermione would have no reason to accept that he was any different than the Draco she had known at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, the only seat left open was one directly behind her. Draco steeled himself and took the seat.

"Looks like we're classmates once again, Granger," Draco whispered.

"Forgive me for not leaping with joy," she muttered.

Draco leaned back in his seat and sighed. He looked around the room; most of the students were glaring at him quite openly. Part of him wanted to scream at everyone, to explain. But the other part, the Malfoy part, caused him to sit up straight and throw a challenging look out across the room, as if daring anyone to say anything. Even the bolder students looked down at their desks. Draco smirked, but he felt no victory. He was tired of it all.

_This is going to be a long year_.

*****

"What's that bloody git playing at? A _Healer? _Malfoy? Come off it." Ron snorted and finished his butterbeer with a loud gulp.

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron's lack of manners. As much as she longed to, she felt that she couldn't scold him, since she was currently a guest in the flat he and Harry shared in Diagon Alley. She had just finished telling them and Ginny about her first day of Healer training, and how she had been more than surprised to see Draco Malfoy stroll into the classroom.

Harry chuckled. "Well, I think it's a good sign. Malfoy seems like he wants to restore his name. No indication he's headed down the same path as Lucius any more."

"Except the ruddy snake tattoo on his left arm," Ron said darkly.

Ron hadn't changed much since their school days. Hermione doubted he would ever fully accept their former Slytherin peers as normal members of society. The prejudices he had harbored in their younger days still had a firm grip on Ron's belief system.

"Well he can't exactly get rid of it, can he?" said Hermione. "That's serious Dark magic. Won't just come off with a good scrub."

"Besides, it is possible that Malfoy's really changed. Most of those kids were brainwashed by their parents," Ginny added.

Harry nodded in agreement. "It's tough for them too. Some of them really are gits, but not all of them. Look at Daphne Greengrass–she's in Auror training with me and Ron, and her parents weren't even Death Eaters, but people still hate her because she was a Slytherin during the war. It's mental."

Harry, unlike Ron, had changed. Hermione supposed that there was really no way Harry could stay the same after all that had happened. She noticed subtle differences in his behavior. Without the threat of Voldemort constantly looming over his head, Harry had become more carefree, and less suspicious. Two years ago, he would have questioned Malfoy's motives, but now he was content to believe that Malfoy was pursuing a Healer career without sinister intentions. Ginny might have had something to do with his happiness, Hermione mused, as she watched the two of them share a kiss. They had been blissful for the past two years and there were no signs of it slowing down.

Hermione and Ron's own romance had fizzled out shortly after it had begun. They quickly realized that what had attracted them to one another was mostly all the drama of never actually being together. Without the games, the young couple found that they were really better off as friends. It was awkward at first, and forced Harry into several uncomfortable "her or me" situations, but Ron and Hermione sorted things out before long. They couldn't bear to lose one another as friends, so the two of them mostly ignored their brief romantic relationship.

"Well disregarding Malfoy, all in all I'm looking forward to this year. Healer training seems like it will be quite fascinating," Hermione said.

"I've thought about becoming a Healer," Ginny replied. "But I'm not quite sure I want to settle into a career yet." Ginny was a year younger than the trio, and given the tumultuous nature of her sixth year, had spent extra time trying to catch up on the material she had missed. She had since graduated, but was still living at the Burrow without a definitive idea about her future. Other than Harry, of course.

"You'll figure out what you want to do when you're ready," Hermione assured her. Although Hermione herself could not imagine such an unstructured life without clear goals.

"You girls should have gone into Auror training with us," Ron declared. "Much more exciting than dealing with sick people and helping Mum around the house."

Hermione gave him a playful shove and Ginny scoffed. "You're just lucky you've got Harry to help you through it, otherwise you'd be dreadful," the red-haired girl said scathingly.

Ron scowled as his cheeks reddened. Harry clapped his friend on the back and mouthed "_Be nice_" to Ginny. "Ron's going to be a brilliant Auror," he assured everyone. Ron looked significantly less angry.

"Speaking of helping Mum around the house..." Ginny narrowed her eyes at Ron. "She wants you lot to come over for lunch on Saturday. George will be there. Percy and Charlie too. Bill and Fleur might even come by. You should see Fleur! I've never seen anyone so pregnant! Anyway, Mum and Dad really miss you."

Hermione felt a twinge of guilt. Her visits to the Weasleys had been lacking lately. She knew Harry and even Ron had made only occasional trips to the Burrow as well. None of them had meant to be so neglectful, but time had a way of slipping by. Hermione vowed to visit more in the future, starting with Saturday.

"Free food? Sounds brilliant," Ron said.

Harry laughed and agreed. "Pick-up Quidditch afterwards?"

"Of course, mate," Ron answered. Ginny nodded.

"I'll be there as well. Although I might have to pass on the Quidditch," said Hermione.

The other three all half-heartedly attempted to convince her to play, but Hermione knew they were just doing it to be nice. They would have a much better time if she bowed out. She wasn't much of a Quidditch player, and did not mind admitting so. Such sports were better left to the professionals, as far as Hermione was concerned. With George, Bill, and Charlie all present, there would be plenty of players.

"Should I bring anything?" Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. "Mum knows cooking isn't your area of expertise, Hermione." Ron and Harry laughed, and Hermione blushed.

"Well, perhaps just some butterbeer then."

Ron looked like he was already imagining the heaping plates of food that would await him at his parents' house. "I'm dying for some proper home cooking. No offense mate, but yours just isn't up to scratch," he said with a pointed look at Harry.

Harry shrugged with a chuckle. "Better than your cooking, anyway."

Hermione laughed and stood up from her chair. "Well, I'd better be going. Got class in the morning."

Harry yawned, as if Hermione's words had spontaneously fatigued him. "Yeah, training in the morning too. Best get to bed." He glanced slyly at Ginny, who grinned.

Ron groaned. "Bloody hell, just get on with it. I try not to imagine you shagging my sister but it's hard to ignore when you're undressing each other with your eyes."

Everyone laughed but Ron, who eventually let a smile creep onto his lips. "Well, goodnight then." He waved and headed off to his bedroom.

Harry and Ginny both hugged Hermione goodnight and retreated to Harry's room as Hermione stepped over to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of powder, tossed it, and stepped into the dancing green flames.

*****

"Gertie!"

A small house-elf appeared in the expansive library of Malfoy Manor.

"What can I do for you, Master Draco?" the elf squeaked.

"Bring me any owl post from the drawing room. And a bottle of Ogden's. The usual, please," Draco said flatly.

Gertie nodded curtly and disappeared with a _pop. _Draco sighed and returned to the book he had been reading. It was rather large volume on major discoveries in treatments for dark curses and poisons. Draco was astounded at the complexities of the cures that these wizards had come up with. Perhaps even more astounding to Draco was that he actually _wanted_ to learn about such things. He hadn't been properly excited about anything for years. It was rather refreshing to have something to look forward to. But Draco didn't want to get his hopes up; he had been in a slump for so long that he didn't think a simple class could completely pull him out of it.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Gertie Apparating into the room, arms full of the items he had requested. She placed a small stack of letters on the polished end table next to Draco's chair. Gertie then scurried around to face Draco, holding up a silver tray with a bottle of Ogden's Firewhisky, a glass, and a small tin of ice. Draco thanked Gertie, took the tray, and dismissed her. He set the tray aside and reached for the stack of letters.

The first letter bore the Nott family seal. Draco wondered what Theodore Nott could possibly want with him; they hadn't spoken in almost two years. He broke the seal and read:

_Draco,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. It has been some time since we've spoken, but I won't bore you with tedium and formalities. I am worried about you. You seem to have completely withdrawn from the world. No one has even seen you in public for months. I correspond with Pansy Parkinson on a regular basis, and she too is worried about you. We would very much like to see you, Draco. Your old friends miss your company. We understand, of course, but we would remind you that you have little other chances for friendship. There are a fair few left in our society who would befriend you. _

_I look forward to your reply,_

_Theo_

With a flick of his wand, Draco incinerated the letter. He almost laughed aloud at how ridiculous Theodore was. Draco had no desire to reestablish friendships with his old Slytherin buddies. They had never really been friends in the first place, merely acquaintances and connections based on blood status and wealth. Draco preferred to be alone than in the company of such "friends."

Though he could not deny the truth of the message. _There are a fair few left in our society who would befriend you. _Every where he went, he had to deal with the distrustful looks and open hostility. This had kept him from going out in public very often. But with the Healer program, Draco hoped to at least improve his image slightly. He would very much like to be able to walk through Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley without scrutiny.

The next letter Draco picked up had the Parkinson family seal on it. He figured it would be much the same as Theo's, so he burned it without reading it. What Pansy might have to say did not interest him. She had fawned all over him at Hogwarts, and he had lapped up the attention then. But it was not something he was interested in now. He shuddered at the thought of her insipid chatter.

The final bit of mail was the Daily Prophet. He was largely uninterested as he scanned the front page. There was really nothing worth note going on when the main headline read: **POTTER EXCELLING AT AUROR TRAINING – NO SURPRISE THERE!** There was a picture of Potter and Weasley in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. Draco scoffed. Even after two years, everything Potter did still made headline news. He supposed if Potter was spotted with a new pair of glasses he'd hear about it.

Draco tossed the _Prophet _aside and turned to his beverage tray. He plunked a couple of ice cubes into the glass and proceeded to fill it about halfway with the amber colored firewhisky. He swirled the ice around for a moment, then drained the glass. Draco repeated this process twice more, until a pleasant warming feeling spread throughout his entire body. He filled the glass a fourth time, but simply held it in his hand this time. He knew that this was not the answer to his troubles, but it was too quick and easy a solution to ignore.

Draco's thoughts dwelled on his letter from Theo. What reason could he have for owling him now, after two years? Draco was certain he didn't want to get together for tea and have friendly chat about their school days. He had heard that both Theo and Pansy had jobs in Diagon Alley, although he couldn't recall at which shops. There had been a period where Draco was afraid that he would have to follow the same route, but when his trust fund was secured, he felt at ease. Though after a year of living off of his father's money, Draco realized he would have to secure his own future.

Draco knew that some of his former friends were still living large. Blaise Zabini's parents had never actually become Death Eaters and were not in Azkaban; therefore they maintained their pre-war lifestyles. Blaise and Draco had never been close, even as far as Draco's superficial friendships went. There had always existed a sort of rivalry between them. But that all seemed so trivial to Draco now, who hadn't spoken to Blaise in two years. Sometimes he found it hard to believe how concerned he had been with blood, status, connections with other pure-bloods....

He quickly drained his glass in order to banish the thoughts he found too painful to deal with. Draco got up and called for Gertie. She appeared instantly.

"Yes Master Draco?"

"Clean up here and bring me a Sleeping Draught in my bedroom."

"Yes sir!"

Gertie vanished and Draco strode out of the library. His footsteps echoed loudly in the empty mansion. He hated being alone here, but it was the only home he had ever had. It pained him to recall the purposes to which his home had been used during the war. It was nearly impossible to escape those memories. These thoughts constantly haunted him, but Draco pushed them out of his mind as he entered his bedroom.

Gertie had evidently already been there, as a vial of Sleeping Draught sat on his night stand. Draco undressed quickly and slipped into a pair of black silk pajamas. He climbed into his king-sized bed and picked the Sleeping Draught up off his night stand. With a resigned look on his face, Draco drank the potion. Before he could think about how much he hated having to take potions to fall asleep, the effects took hold, and Draco drifted into a dreamless slumber.

* * *

**R&R please!** **This is my first story in a long time, and I'm excited to be back in the DH scene. :)**


	3. The Rhythm of the Weekend

**CHAPTER TWO**

The Rhythm of the Weekend

The first week of classes went very well. Hermione became more excited by the prospect of being a Healer as she learned more. They were still covering the basics of what it is a Healer does, appropriate conduct, rules and regulations–things that most people would find extremely dull, but Hermione found fascinating. She took extensive notes every class and immediately became Healer Blarney's favorite. Unlike at Hogwarts, the other students didn't mock her or make snarky comments about her enthusiasm. They were all as eager and interested as she was, which was a refreshing change.

Even Malfoy seemed interested. Hermione had to admit she was surprised; she naturally assumed that Malfoy was only there because he could afford to be, without any real desire to learn. He answered questions almost as often as she did, and seemed extremely knowledgeable. Hermione knew that he had been one of the top students at Hogwarts, but she had some how never considered him intelligent. She couldn't deny now that he was both intelligent and articulate. It was remarkable to Hermione how much smarter Malfoy seemed when he wasn't slinging insults at her or her friends.

Unfortunately, the other students in the class didn't seem to care how intelligent or well-read Malfoy sounded. They all stared at him coldly when he spoke and or pretended that he didn't exist. Healer Blarney didn't seem to notice the glares or the hush that fell whenever he walked through the classroom. No one engaged in friendly chit-chat with Malfoy. Hermione felt rather bad, but she didn't think she had anything to say to him herself.

Malfoy, at least, seemed unfazed by the way the rest of the class was treating him. Hermione glanced back at him briefly and wondered if beneath his cool exterior it bothered him any.

Draco looked up momentarily from his sheet of notes only to catch Granger of all people glancing his way. She looked away before she could read the questioning look on his face. Draco pretended like he didn't notice the hard looks and cold shoulders from the rest of the class, but they were hard to miss. Granger, however, seemed to have been looking at him with curiosity rather than hatred. Strange, considering she more than anyone in the room had reasons to hate him.

It stung a little, Draco had to admit, but he really couldn't blame his classmates for their feelings. He had done bad things, and been associated with the worst of people.

_Just give them time, _he told himself. _You're the one who has to prove himself to them._

Draco's thoughts were broken by Healer Blarney tapping his wand on the blackboard, causing his notes to be replaced with the St. Mungo's symbol.

"That will conclude our first week of Healer Training. Excellent job, everyone," he began in his surprisingly commanding voice. "Monday we will commence with some simple diagnostic practice. Enjoy your weekends. You will find the course far more strenuous beginning next week. Thank you."

The room was filled with the sound of chairs scraping against the floor and excited chatter about upcoming weekend festivities. Draco thought gloomily about yet another weekend spent alone at Malfoy Manor. Perhaps he would go to France this time. His family still owned a villa in Nice. The weather was pleasant, and a change of scenery would be welcome. Yes, Draco decided, he would go to France.

"Got any plans this weekend, Hermione?" Edwin asked.

Hermione thought she detected an eagerness in his voice. "Oh. Well, yes, actually. Harry and I are due to visit the Weasleys."

She wasn't sure if Edwin was interested in her, but she thought she caught subtle hints now and then that he was after more than friendship. Her suspicions didn't ebb when a look of disappointment briefly crossed his features.

"Oh, right. You and Harry Potter." He looked away. "Well sounds lovely. See you Monday, then?" Edwin smiled, but Hermione suspected it was forced.

"Of course." Hermione returned a smile. "Enjoy your weekend."

Edwin nodded and headed out of the classroom. Hermione frowned slightly, then shook her head. She was probably imagining things.

"I reckon that Chambers bloke would have shown you a nice time, Granger," came a cool voice from behind Hermione.

Hermione turned, trying to keep her expression neutral.

Draco could tell that she was mildly astonished that he had spoken to her. She was not practiced at concealing her emotions, that much was clear.

"I suppose so. But I reckon that's none of your business, Malfoy," Hermione replied curtly.

Draco smirked. "Fair enough. Wouldn't want you to waste a perfectly lovely weekend."

"It's a good thing what I do with my weekends doesn't concern you, then," Hermione replied.

Why was Malfoy even talking to her? At least it wasn't blatantly rude. That in itself was bewildering.

Draco too wondered why he'd even bothered speaking to Hermione Granger in the first place. She would clearly have nothing to say to him. But he had been starved for human interaction lately. Gertie the house-elf made a poor substitute for actual conversation.

"Of course. Well, enjoy your weekend anyway," Draco said simply.

Hermione seemed unsure how to reply. She nodded. "You as well."

And with that, Hermione grabbed her things and quickly exited the classroom. She only puzzled for a moment over the rather odd exchange, then promptly turned her thoughts to the impending lunch at the Burrow.

Draco chuckled to himself, gathered his things, and began a mental check-list for his upcoming trip to France.

*****

Saturday dawned crisp and clear. Hermione loved waking up to a slightly chilly room in September, with the fresh scent of leaves in the air. She hesitated for a moment before rising, savoring the moment. It was still summer, but it felt like autumn. Hermione climbed out of bed and wrapped a fuzzy blue robe around herself as she headed into the small kitchen of her flat. She put a pot of tea on and sat down to read the _Daily Prophet._

Hermione had opted to live in Muggle London after leaving school. She rarely used magic at home; she preferred to do things the Muggle way. It helped her feel connected with the world she had first been a part of, before being thrust into a tumultuous world of magic. She didn't like to use magic when she went to visit her parents either because she felt that it made them nervous. They never said anything, but Hermione could tell. They were dentists afterall, and very practical people. Magic had no real place in their lives.

The kettle began to boil and Hermione poured herself a steaming mug of Earl Gray. The _Prophet_ had nothing of real interest to report, so Hermione finished her tea quickly and took a shower. She allowed herself a little magical indulgence by using her wand to dry her hair; toweling it off just took too long. Running a brush through it a few times, Hermione said a silent 'thank you' to her wavy locks for settling down and losing its once-characteristic bushiness.

Never one to fuss about clothes, Hermione grabbed a simple ensemble from her closet–dark blue jeans, a black v-neck tee, and a gray cardigan. She pulled on a worn pair of gray sneakers and tucked her wand into her back pocket. With a glance at the clock, Hermione determined she had ten minutes before she was due to meet Harry and Ron at their flat. They were all going to Floo over together.

Even though Hermione had chosen to live in Muggle London, she had made sure her flat was in close proximity to Diagon Alley so that she would never want for contact with the magical world. She often chose to walk to Harry and Ron's, rather than Floo, because she didn't like to feel completely dependent on her magic. Hermione left her flat and made the quick trip to the Diagon Alley entrance, where she tapped the appropriate bricks and marveled as the archway appeared. It never ceased to amaze her how the entire Wizarding world had tucked itself away right in plain sight of Muggles, if only they could see.

Hermione made the quick trip to Harry and Ron's building, lamenting that she didn't have time to stop for a browse through Flourish and Blotts. She entered their building and climbed the two flights of stairs to their floor.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Coming!" Hermione heard Ron call from within.

He answered the door with a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth and his hair sticking up in several directions.

" 'Lo 'Ermione," he said while scrubbing his teeth.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Why am I the only one who's ever ready on time?"

"Not so fast," said Harry as he entered the room. "I'm perfectly ready."

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Harry, your hair is an absolute _mess_."

Harry tousled his already messy hair. "Well I don't see how that's different than any other day, so I think I'm set."

"You're lucky Ginny likes that Quidditch-tossed hair look," Hermione stated.

Harry ginned. "I know."

Ron returned from rinsing out his foamy mouth and making a half-hearted attempt to tame his bed-head. "Well let's go then, I've been ready for ages."

Hermione scowled and followed the boys into the kitchen. They were incorrigible, but Hermione could not imagine her life without her two best friends. Though she often wondered how she thought dating Ron could have ever possibly worked out.

"I'll go first and let Mum know you're coming," Ron said.

He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fireplace.

"The Burrow!" he said firmly, and disappeared into the whorl of green flames.

Harry gestured to Hermione. "Ladies first."

Hermione smiled and followed suit. When she came out in the Weasley's kitchen, she was greeted by a rather tight hug from Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh Hermione! It's been so long since we've seen you! You're looking well dear, a bit thin, but we've got plenty of food to mend that!"

Hermione suspected she had a bruised rib or two, but she smiled nonetheless. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I'm so glad to see you all as well."

As Hermione moved over to embrace Mr. Weasley, Harry stepped out of the flames and was pulled into a bone-breaking hug by Mrs. Weasley. Hermione looked around and saw George involved in a game of Exploding Snap with Charlie, Bill tending to a very pregnant Fleur (who, if possible, looked even _more _beautiful pregnant), a bored-looking Ginny engaged with Percy in a conversation that he at least seemed rather excited about, and Ron already elbow deep in a tray of pies. Even Andromeda Tonks was there, helping Molly cook and every so often turning to make sure little two-year-old Teddy didn't run head first into anything as he waddled around on chubby legs.

Hermione had missed this.

There was an empty seat next to Percy, and when Hermione moved to sit there, Ginny violently shook her head.

"Something wrong, Ginny?" Percy asked.

Ginny faked a cough. "No, nothing, I'm fine."

"Brilliant. So as I was saying about the medicinal purposes of flobberworms..."

Harry seemed to have noticed his girlfriend in distress, and headed over towards Ginny and Percy to save her.

Hermione then took a seat next to Fleur instead, leaving Harry free to sit on the other side of Percy.

"Oh 'allo 'Ermione. Eet 'as been too long. 'Ow 'ave you been?" Fleur asked, resting a delicate hand on her distended belly.

"Great, thanks. And you? The baby must be due any time now!"

Fleur smiled wistfully. "Oui. I cannot wait until our little Victoire ees joining us."

"Victoire? So the baby is a girl then?" Hermione asked.

Bill grinned wolfishly. "Fleur _thinks _it's going to be a girl. But we don't actually know for sure. We wanted to be surprised."

Fleur scoffed. "Non, non..._you_ wanted to be surprised. But zat does not matter. When you are pregnant, you just _know_. Victoire ees a girl, zis I am sure."

Bill patted his wife on her lovely head and she made a small _hmph_! sound. He quickly made up for it by kissing her soundly, which made her forget any of his previous indiscretions. Hermione turned away politely. She was then faced with the sight of Ron still cramming as much food as would fit into his mouth. Mr. Weasley, thankfully, distracted her from the gruesome sight.

"How was your first week of Healer training, Hermione?"

"It went very well, thank you. Next week we begin diagnostic practice. I'm very excited about it," Hermione replied.

"Wonderful! You know I was sad to hear you wouldn't be staying with us at the Ministry. We could have used a mind like yours! But it's important to do something you love, I always thought," said .

Hermione beamed. "I couldn't agree more."

"Just watch out Hermione, or you'll end up with a shed full of Muggle junk too," said Ron between pies.

They all laughed as Mrs. Weasley began levitating food over to the table. Andromeda grabbed Teddy and took a seat at the table. Once all the food was in place and Mrs. Weasley seemed satisfied, she took a seat next to her husband and ordered everyone to tuck in.

Hermione helped herself to several different things. She hadn't had good cooking in quite some time. Her friends were right when they said cooking wasn't her strong suit. She often missed the regular delicious meals that Hogwarts had to offer. But Mrs. Weasley could give even those exquisite meals a run for their money.

Harry echoed Hermione's thoughts. "Everything is excellent Mrs. Weasley," he said.

"Thank you dear," she replied.

Once everyone had eaten their fill, the kitchen buzzed with the chatter of several different conversations. Hermione talked about her Healer training with anyone who was curious. Harry and Ron regaled everyone with tales of Auror training. George amused them with ideas for his latest inventions. And everyone hastily tried to think of other things to talk about once Percy seemed intent on launching a into a tirade on broom travel regulation.

Everyone began to restless, so Harry led the charge on getting a Quidditch game going. Ginny, Ron, Bill, Charlie, and George followed him outside, brooms in hand. Mr. Weasley helped Fleur waddle outside with Teddy, who wanted to watch the game. Percy retired to the living room to get some work done. Hermione elected to stay behind and help Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley clean up.

As they cleared the table, Mrs. Weasley cast a sly glance at Hermione. "So Hermione dear, are you seeing anyone?" Her tone was clearly _meant _to be casual, but Hermione could tell she had been waiting to ask. Andromeda pretended to be very busy with some dishes.

"Er–no, no I'm not." She wasn't exactly sure what to say. "Um...why do you ask?"

Mrs. Weasley seemed pleased. "Well, it's just that Ronald isn't seeing anyone either..."

Hermione felt a blush creep up her cheeks. Mrs. Weasley had been thrilled when they'd gotten together, and devastated when they'd broke up not a year afterwards. But over a year had passed; what was she getting at?

"Mrs. Weasley, you know Ron and I dated before. It was–it just didn't work out," Hermione tried to explain.

Mrs. Weasley waved her hand in the air, as if to banish the thought. "But you're both older now. Things have changed."

"We're just...better off as friends." Hermione sighed, trying to mask her irritation. She doubted this conversation would lead anywhere positive.

"It's just that Ron seems so lonely. He hasn't had a proper girlfriend since you two dated. I want to see him with a nice girl."

Mrs. Weasley frowned, and Hermione felt bad for getting annoyed. Mrs. Weasley was just looking out for her youngest son.

"I know. I want to see Ron happy with someone too. I'm just not the right person for the job," Hermione said as kindly as possible.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and nodded. "I'm sorry, dear. I don't know what came over me. Why don't you go get some fresh air? Andromeda and I can finish up here."

Hermione wanted to hug Mrs. Weasley for giving her an excuse to leave this awkward moment behind. She went outside and headed to the field where the majority of the Weasleys plus Harry would be playing Quidditch. Taking a seat next to Mr. Weasley, Fleur, and Teddy, Hermione was briefed on what she had missed. Apparently Harry, George, and Bill were on one side and Ron, Ginny, and Charlie were on the other. Hermione chuckled to herself as she imagined Harry and Ginny arguing with each other later after Harry inevitably caught the snitch first.

*****

Hermione unlocked the door to her flat and stepped inside. She took off her shoes and cardigan and sank into a squashy armchair. Her day at the Burrow had been wonderful and tiring.

After Quidditch, they had tea and desserts in the cool evening air. They all chatted merrily late into the night. Hermione had hugged everyone good bye, even Percy, who usually parted ways with a firm handshake.

Hermione vowed to make trips to the Burrow more frequently.

"Hermione?"

Hermione jumped and a spasm of fear gripped her insides. She sighed heavily when she realized the voice had come from Ron's head in her fireplace.

"Merlin, Ron! You nearly scared me to death!"

He looked sheepish. "Sorry."

"What is it? Did I leave something at the Burrow?"

"No. I just wanted to talk to you about something my mum said to you earlier..."

Hermione groaned. "Oh, right. That."

"Yeah. Well, I just wanted to apologize for that. She was bang out of order."

Hermione nodded. "It's all right. Your mum apologized. She was just looking out for you."

"She was just being nosy is what she was doing. My love life shouldn't be one of her concerns." He seemed rather put out.

"Don't worry about it, Ron. I'm not offended or anything."

"Well I am. She should know better. If we were going to get back together we would do it on our own. Er–hypothetically speaking, of course."

Hermione was slightly startled to hear that, but she tried not to show it. Luckily, Ron wasn't an ace at reading subtle changes in facial expression.

"Right. Well, I better get to bed. It's late," Hermione said crisply.

Ron looked a little upset, but he didn't protest. "Goodnight, Hermione."

"Goodnight."

Ron's head disappeared from the fire. Hermione was slightly confused by Ron's behavior. She was sure that he didn't still have feelings for her, so she chalked it up to him being sincerely upset by his mother's busy-bodying.

Hermione went into her bedroom and quickly changed into pajamas. She jumped into bed and drifted off to sleep before she had time to ponder Ron's behavior any further.

*****

A light breeze off the sea lifted a tuft of white-blond hair off Draco's face. He stared out across the bright blue water as he sipped a glass of white wine. His villa in Nice was definitely relaxing, but even the warm weather and calming sounds of the sea couldn't silence Draco's thoughts.

He had received another letter from Pansy, which he had incinerated unopened. What Pansy had to say to him still failed to arouse any interest. He simply wished she would take the hint when she received no letters in return. Somehow he doubted he would be so lucky. Pansy Parkinson was nothing if not persistent, as Draco knew well from the years she spent chasing after his romantic attention at Hogwarts.

Draco simply wished people would leave him be and allow him to pursue his new life. He sighed and stared out across the ocean. Perhaps he should have taken another year off. He could have gotten a yacht and spent the year sailing around the world. He found such an idea increasingly enticing as he planned an itinerary almost without thinking. Draco decided that someday he would make that happen.

Draco finished his glass of wine and stood up from his chair. He crossed the terrace and passed through the finely wrought doors to the airy kitchen. The oven timer _dinged! _just as Draco slipped his shoes off.

"Right on time," he murmured.

Draco opened the oven and was greeted with the tantalizing scent of the chocolate souffle he made. Pulling it out, Draco marveled at how perfect the dessert had come out. He set it aside on the counter and went to grab a fork from one of the many drawers in the kitchen.

As he took the first bite, Draco realized it was the cooking more than the eating that appealed to him. The souffle was delicious, but the process of baking it had been soothing. With his mind focused on preparing the food and following the recipe, he was able to be temporarily free from the thoughts that usually plagued him.

Lucius and Narcissa would have scoffed at his dabbling in cooking the Muggle way. They had never really cooked, even by the means of magic. That's what their house-elf was for. But Draco had done everything by hand; he hadn't even used a simple Summoning charm to fetch ingredients.

His preference for doing things the Muggle way ended there.

"Accio textbook," Draco said with a lazy flick of his wand.

His Healer textbook came soaring in from the living room. Draco casually flipped through it as he ate. Diagnostic practice would begin on Monday and Draco felt it would be beneficial to brush up on at least the more common diseases. Granger wasn't the only one who could impress the professor. Draco was determined to excel during his training.

He made a face as he flipped past a picture of a man with a rather nasty case of Scrofungulus. _This sure isn't going to be easy_, Draco thought as he envisioned any number of strange and disgusting diseases that he might have to deal with. Oh well, it was all part of the job.

Anyone who knew him at Hogwarts would not believe that he was on a career path that would lead him to deal directly with sick people. People had always thought of Draco as delicate and pristine. It's true his mother had pampered him most of his childhood, but he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Again, that was just something he would have to prove over time.

When Draco had enough of looking at people disfigured by Dragon Pox, he shut the book and levitated his half-eaten souffle into the refrigerator. He poured himself another glass of wine and retired to the richly furnished living room. With a wave of his wand, a fire sprang to life in the ornately carved marble fireplace.

Draco swirled his wine lazily, occasionally taking a sip. He was enjoying his weekend, but couldn't help feeling a pang of loneliness. He recalled Theodore Nott's words, "_You have little other chances for friendship. There are a fair few left in our society who would befriend you."_

Draco knew that he had no real friends. He had thought it would become easier to deal with as time went on, but his friendlessness stung more than he cared to admit.

For a fleeting moment, Draco could have sworn he saw a face in the fire. He shook his head, thinking it might have been a trick of the light, or perhaps a little too much wine. But the face reappeared, and Draco couldn't believe who he was looking at.

Theodore Nott's face danced in the jumping orange flames.

"Nott? What are you doing here?"

"Sorry to disturb you, Draco. I tried calling on you at home, but Gertie said you had come here for the weekend. May I come in?"

Draco hesitated a moment. "Very well."

Theodore stepped through the fireplace and brushed himself off. He took a seat and sat rather stiffly.

"You're looking well," he said formally, with a polite smile that stretched the skin across his thin face.

Draco nodded curtly. "You still haven't explained why you've come here."

Theodore's cordial smile disappeared. He realized quickly that Draco wasn't interested in the niceties of conversation.

"You hadn't returned my letter. Or Pansy's. We are concerned."

"You need not be, Theodore. My life is perfectly in order."

Theodore laughed mirthlessly. "Come off it, Draco. I know how people look at you. They look at me the same. The scorn, the distrust. It will never change. They won't ever trust us."

As much as Draco hated to admit it, he often thought the same thing. But he wasn't as resigned to it as Theodore seemed to be.

"It will take time. But once we prove that we aren't reverting to our old ways, they will accept us."

"Draco Malfoy, the optimist," Theodore said, shaking his head.

"Theodore, you can't ignore the things we've done. You have to understand why people would feel the way they do."

"I never did anything. I never killed anyone. I never even _tried_ to kill anyone." There was an edge to his voice.

Draco knew he was referring to Dumbledore, but he chose to ignore it. "Regardless, our parents committed atrocities, and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, we were on our way to doing the same things. We believed in a lot of terrible ideas."

"Don't tell me you're a Muggle lover now?"

"If by that you mean blood status no longer rules my life, then yes," Draco said angrily.

Theodore shrugged. "I suppose I'd be able to bear it too if I still had _my _fortune."

Draco did not miss the bitterness in Theodore's voice.

"That has nothing to do with it. I am simply trying to turn my life around. I'm training to become a Healer at St. Mungo's." He took a sip of his wine.

"So I've heard," Theodore said disdainfully. "Borgin & Burkes is hiring, you know. I've been doing some work for them on the side."

Draco shook his head. "Not interested. I'm happy with what I'm doing, Theodore."

"You're happy having no friends? Draco, you've barely been seen in public in the last two years. Are you content living alone at Malfoy Manor with your house-elf?"

He'd struck a nerve, but Draco was practiced enough in keeping his face expressionless that it didn't show. "Don't pretend we were ever really friends in the first place."

"Perhaps not in the traditional sense. I was never one to follow you around like a lost puppy. I didn't need you in the way Crabbe and Goyle did. But we looked out for one another when we were on top. And we should do the same now that we've lost everything."

Draco didn't like the way Theodore was talking. For some reason it made him nervous, and he had just about enough of this talk. He stood up.

"I think I'll retire for the evening," Draco said coolly. He hardly noticed that his hands had balled into fists.

Theodore's dark eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched, but he bit back whatever angry response he might have been thinking of. "As you wish, Draco."

Draco thought briefly that Theodore might hit him, but he merely stood up and nodded curtly. He strode forward and disappeared in a flash of green flame without another word. Draco sank back into the couch and drained his glass of wine. His brief encounter with Theodore left him exhausted. The man's attitude had set alarm bells ringing in Draco's mind, but he wasn't sure why. Theodore clearly harbored some resentment, but Draco had hoped that his former classmates had at least attempted to move on rather than fester in their hatred. In Theodore's case, this seemed unlikely.

Draco sighed and resolved not to let Theodore's little visit bother him. He was bitter and angry, and Draco did not want to be involved in that kind of toxic thinking. It would be all too easy for him to fall into those habits alongside Theodore and Pansy. Though he could not ignore the way Theodore drove to the heart of his issue; he was alone.

His solution was to pour one more glass of wine. He drank deeply and relished the way it helped him push unwanted thoughts out of his mind. The fact that it was a temporary solution didn't bother him.

After finishing the glass, Draco got up and went over to the fireplace. He tossed in some Floo powder and called out the name of his own Manor. He placed only his head into the flames and ignored that strange sensation that came with only one's head being sent through the Floo network.

"Gertie!" he called, looking out into his empty drawing room.

The house-elf appeared almost immediately. "Yes Master Draco?" she squeaked.

"If anyone else comes calling for me, please tell them I will return Monday after my classes, and that I am not available until that time."

"I'm sorry Master Draco. Mister Nott is one of your old friends so I thought it would be okay to tell him where to find out." She wrung her small hands nervously.

Draco shook his head. "I should have been more specific when I left. From now on, no guests."

Gertie nodded. "Yes sir!"

"That will be all."

Gertie nodded again. She vanished as Draco pulled his head out of the fire and rejoined his body in the villa living room.

Feeling slightly more at peace, Draco extinguished the fire with a flick of his wand. Weariness overwhelmed him, and for the first time in weeks he knew he would be able to fall asleep without the aid of any potions.

* * *

**A/N: **Chapter title comes from an F. Scott Fitzgerald quote: "The rhythm of the weekend, with its birth, its planned gaieties, and its announced end, followed the rhythm of life and was a substitute for it."

**R&R if you please! :)**


	4. A Little Help From MyFriends?

1**A/N: Thank you for the reviews! :) I'm glad you like the story so far. I apologize for the delay between updates, but the combination of family issues and my computer deciding to eat half the chapter put a hold on things. I hope to be able to update more frequently now, though!**

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**CHAPTER THREE**

A Little Help From My...Friends?

Hermione was excited to return to class after the weekend. She was the first one in the classroom. The other students began to trickle in, and before long Edwin appeared in the seat next to her.

"Have a good weekend, Hermione?" Edwin asked as he took out his book.

"Yes, it was great. How was yours?"

"Good. Played some Quidditch with a couple of friends. D'you and Potter play Quidditch often? He was a brilliant Seeker at school."

Hermione laughed. "Harry plays with Ron and some of the other Weasleys. But I'm a dreadful player. I've only played a few times when they desperately needed someone."

Edwin smiled. "I'm sure you're not that bad. I could teach you sometime..."

Hermione bit her lip. He sounded hopeful and Hermione hated to hurt his feelings, but she didn't want to encourage him. Luckily, Hermione was saved from making an awkward response by Healer Blarney entering the classroom and immediately putting notes on the board.

Healer Blarney's no-nonsense attitude reminded Hermione a lot of Professor McGonagall, which she admired greatly.

"Let's get started. Today we begin diagnostic practice. You will be splitting into groups of two. Feel free to choose your own partners. Once you have done so, please take turns describing symptoms to one another and discerning the afflictions. We will do this for approximately a half an hour to get warmed up. You may begin."

Hermione looked around the classroom. Most people paired up with the people they were sitting next to.

"Hermione?"

She turned back to face Edwin.

"Want to be partners?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione had expected this, but she didn't see any real reason not to pair up with him. He was a competent student, and they got along.

"Sure," Hermione replied.

Edwin looked ecstatic. Hermione smiled, and looked around the room again. Everyone was paired off, except for Draco Malfoy. He looked impassive, but Hermione wondered if the fact that no one had asked him to be their partner bothered him.

Draco cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Healer Blarney." The instructor turned to face him. "It seems I'm the odd man out."

Healer Blarney made a brief survey of the room. "Yes, it appears we have an odd number of students. Join one of the other groups, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco groaned inwardly. No one would want to be his partner. He was about to object and say that he was perfectly capable of working alone, when Hermione Granger turned around to face him.

"Malfoy, would you like to join our group?"

Hermione wasn't sure what had made her ask, but she felt it was the right thing to do. Malfoy hadn't done anything specifically to earn the scorn of his classmates, and she felt bad that they treated him so coldly. She also recognized his academic prowess and knew he would be an asset to their group.

Draco was momentarily stunned. He glanced over at Chambers, who looked distressed. He looked back to Granger's questioning face.

"Sure Granger, I'll help you out," he said with every ounce of arrogance he could summon. He didn't want anyone to be under the impression that Granger was doing _him _a favor.

"That's settled then," Healer Blarney said simply, and started in on his own work.

Hermione scowled. She had a momentary feeling of regret, but suppressed it. It was Malfoy she was dealing with, and she decided she should expect some resistance.

"Well, let's begin, shall we?" Hermione said in a very business-like tone.

Edwin nodded and opened his book.

Draco stood up and dragged his chair over next to Granger. He opened his book and looked over at his two partners with an eyebrow raised.

"I'll start," Hermione said in response to his silent question.

She flipped through her book until she found an illness to describe. She looked over it briefly, then shut the book so that her partners wouldn't see what she had chosen.

"What would you say if my symptoms include a series of freckle-like blemishes on my skin, and a fatigue that often renders me bedridden."

Edwin looked like he was about to speak when Malfoy cut him off.

"I'd say you've shagged Weasley one too many times and he's starting to rub off on you," Draco said with a smirk.

Hermione flushed red. "Malfoy! That's none of _your _business!" She was wondering if she had expected too much of Malfoy assuming that he had grown up some.

Draco chuckled. He knew that wasn't the way to appear like a changed man, but he still couldn't bite back some of his more flippant remarks.

"Cool it Granger, I was only joking. What you and Weasley do in your spare time is of no concern to me."

Her brown eyes flashed with anger. "I should hope not, otherwise your life must be awfully dull," she said sharply.

She looked furious, so Draco decided he should probably take it easy. He glanced over at Chambers, who looked hurt. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Chambers clearly had some sort of crush on Granger. Draco decided to move on and spare them all from arguing five minutes into their first assignment.

"In all seriousness, you've got spattergroit, Granger. The spots, the fatigue. If the spots turned into angry purple pustules you'd be on your way to a very ugly death."

Hermione was surprised, and his accurate response served to quell her anger some. She was annoyed, but also noted a difference in this teasing as opposed to the cruelty she experience in school. It seemed more light-hearted, somehow. She huffed and decided to move on. "Correct, Malfoy," she said curtly.

Draco smiled briefly. "Chambers, how about you next?"

He looked put out, but he flipped through the book until he appeared to find something that satisfied him.

"I was bitten by some sort of bug," Chambers began. "I can no longer see my arm and–"

"Vanishing Sickness," Hermione and Draco said in unison.

They looked at each other and Hermione couldn't suppress a small smile. _Perhaps he _will_ be a decent partner, _she thought.

Draco was pleased to see the anger vanish from her features. He truly didn't want to make a bad impression, but it was hard to break certain habits. And he had always had a sharp tongue. Bantering with Granger seemed a natural behavior.

The trio continued this for another twenty minutes before Healer Blarney called the class to a halt. He lectured them for the rest of the time before their hour-long lunch break.

Hermione bid a good lunch to Edwin and Malfoy. Before Edwin could question her, she explained, "I'm going to the library to get some work done."

"Some things never change, eh Granger?" Draco asked with a smirk.

Hermione stuck her chin out defiantly. "Some things don't need to. One would hope, however, that _some_ things do."

With that, she left the classroom. Draco's smirk vanished. Her statement and tone of voice told him a lot; she may have put up with his teasing, but she was definitely going to be wary of him.

Chambers looked confused. Draco clapped him on the back. "Don't worry Chambers, you'll understand women someday. Maybe."

He scowled and left the room in a hurry. Draco laughed to himself and headed down to the cafeteria to eat lunch alone.

*****

"Now Malfoy's your _partner_?" Ron exclaimed. "What're they trying to torture you or something?"

Hermione once again found herself seated at Ron and Harry's kitchen table, and had just finished telling the two of them about the most recent events of her Healer classes.

"Well, everyone needed a partner. I suppose it was just my luck."

Hermione had decided not to mention the fact that she had asked Malfoy to work with her and Edwin Chambers. She felt that this would not go over well with Ron. It was best to avoid an unnecessary argument about something so trivial.

"At least you have that Chambers guy too. You won't have to be alone with Malfoy," Ron added.

Hermione nodded absently. For some reason, she wasn't really worried about it. Malfoy's teasing hadn't really been insults, and lacked the usual venom with which he jibed her. She would tread carefully, but she didn't anticipate any real problems. If she was honest with herself, she considered Edwin and his apparent crush on her to be more of an issue.

"Anyway," Harry began. He didn't really seem too concerned about Malfoy either. Hermione suspected that the two of them had come to some kind of unspoken truce, but she never brought it up. "Ginny wants you to go shopping with her on Saturday."

Hermione groaned. She didn't really enjoy shopping. Ginny was the type to wander around for hours, trying things on, debating endlessly about which pair of shoes she liked better, then never buying anything. Hermione only went shopping when she had a specific goal in mind. But she hadn't spent much quality time with her friend lately, so she reluctantly agreed.

"I know you don't much fancy shopping, but Ginny will be glad to see you," Harry said.

"I could use some new sneakers, I suppose," Hermione said.

Ron laughed. "You're the least girly girl I've ever met. Well, aside from Millicent Bulstrode,"

The three of them laughed and laughed, and it was just like sitting around the fire in the Gryffindor common room again.

*****

Friday rolled around before Hermione knew it. She was still enthralled with her class, and was eager for the weekend to fly by so that she could come back for more. Working with Malfoy hadn't even been bothersome. He was very bright and extremely serious about their work, which continued to surprise Hermione even though she had come to expect it over the course of the week.

Hermione anticipated that Edwin would try and ask her out for the weekend again, so she had been sure to bring up the fact that she had a shopping excursion with Ginny planned. At this point, she wasn't sure why she continued to reject the notion of dating Edwin, even casually. She hadn't been on a date in quite some time, and Edwin was a nice guy. But she couldn't fake an interest that just wasn't there.

He had, of course, seemed disheartened when she had mentioned the shopping trip. He had asked her how long it would take, and Hermione was sure to tell him that it was likely to be a weekend-long engagement.

Draco couldn't help but overhear Granger's not-so-subtle rejection of Chambers' renewed offer for a date. Chambers probably didn't pick up on it, but Draco could tell that Granger was not interested. He felt bad for the poor bloke; he didn't have a clue.

Draco waited until Chambers had left the room to address Granger.

"That Chambers can't take a hint, huh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes before turning to face Malfoy. She had somewhat gotten used to his banter, and tried not to let it get a rise out of her.

"I don't know what you mean, Malfoy," Hermione said, scooping up her textbook.

Draco scoffed, but there was a playful glint in his gray eyes. "Come off it, Granger. You're no idiot. You know that guy is dying for the chance to take you out."

Hermione sighed. "Well, I think he'll catch on eventually."

Draco shrugged. "Subtlety doesn't seem to be his strong suit. Why don't you just tell him you're shagging Weasley and get it over with?"

Hermione knew her cheeks were reddening. That Malfoy smirked at this made her blush even further. "I don't know why you keep mentioning that, but Ron and I are _not _shagging."

"Waiting until marriage then? That's admirable Granger, though not exactly the most fun..."

"Ron Weasley and I are not dating, if you must know," Hermione said tersely.

"Oh," was all Draco managed to say. He was nothing if not surprised; he'd assumed that Weasley and Granger were basically married by this point. Although the thought of anyone being attracted to Weasley made him almost laugh out loud. He regained his composure shortly thereafter. "Congratulations, then. At least now you won't catch spattergroit."

"Yes I'm _so _relieved," she said dryly. Though Hermione couldn't help but smile. She felt a small victory in rendering Malfoy speechless for a moment. She shouldered her bag and made for the door.

"See you Monday, Granger," Draco called after her.

Hermione stopped and turned back towards Malfoy. "Bye," she said rather awkwardly, and hurried out of the room.

*****

"Hermione, you _need _to buy that dress!" Ginny exclaimed.

Hermione had stepped out of the dressing room in a black dress that Ginny had urged her to try on. It was a bit short for Hermione's taste, and rather low-cut. She looked at herself in the mirror and immediately felt like she should cover up.

Though she had to admit, it did look rather nice. "And just when would I have the occasion to wear this?" Hermione asked pointedly.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Must you be so practical all the time? Perhaps you'll have a date soon. And what are you going to wear then? _That?_" She pointed at Hermione's outfit lying on the bench in the dressing room–a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"What's wrong with that outfit?" Hermione asked defensively.

"Well nothing really, just that it wouldn't do for a date," Ginny replied.

Hermione narrowed her eyes briefly then looked at her reflection in the mirror once more. She didn't know when she would next have a date, but she did like the way the dress looked on her. She sighed resignedly and returned to the dressing room, noting Ginny's triumphant expression as she turned.

After she changed into her normal clothes, Hermione exited the dressing room and followed Ginny to the register. Ginny bought a pair of shoes and some shirts, then Hermione paid for her dress. She cringed slightly, thinking that her allowance from her parents was paying for something so frivolous. They had agreed to pay her expenses while in Healer training, since she had gotten a full scholarship to the program, but Hermione still felt guilty spending money on things she didn't really need.

"Shall we do lunch then?" Hermione questioned as they left the store.

Ginny rubbed her stomach. "Yes! But let's go back to Diagon Alley. I'm craving a butterbeer."

Hermione agreed and they made their way back through Muggle London to the Diagon Alley entrance. Once inside, they settled on a café called Circe's Cauldron. The hostess led them to a small table by the window, simply decorated with a vase of orchids.

They flipped through their menus until the waitress arrived to take their drink orders. When she asked, "What can I get you to drink?" the voice that Hermione heard caused her to snap her head up from the menu with an undisguised look of shock.

The voice belonged to Pansy Parkinson.

As soon as Pansy realized who she was serving, a sneer twisted her lip. Ginny smirked, and Hermione was worried that the younger girl might do something brash.

"I'll have a butterbeer," Ginny said snootily.

Hermione didn't want any trouble. As much as Pansy had tormented her in the past, Hermione wasn't particularly vindictive. "A gillywater, please," Hermione said.

Pansy nodded, her teeth visibly clenched. She spun on her heel and hurried away.

Ginny and Hermione looked at each other for a moment, both clearly in disbelief that Pansy Parkinson was their waitress. Ginny, however, seemed to delight in this fact.

"Oh this is _too _perfect," Ginny said excitedly. "Finally, Parkinson put in her place. I can't wait to tell Ron!"

Hermione didn't want to admit that she did feel a _tiny _victory in having the former Slytherin princess serving her, the "Mudblood" who Pansy never even considered a real person. But she didn't want to encourage Ginny.

"C'mon Ginny, let's not make this any worse for her. I can't imagine this is where she envisioned herself after graduation."

"She doesn't deserve any better," Ginny said bitterly.

Hermione didn't feel like arguing. Ginny certainly didn't believe that Pansy and the other Death Eater children deserved second chances, but Hermione didn't consider them villains. They were capable of change, or so she hoped, for their sakes and the rest of the world.

Pansy returned with their drinks and practically slammed them down on the table. Ginny suppressed a laugh and Hermione tried her best to keep her face impassive.

"Can I take your order?" Pansy asked, forcing a smile for what, Hermione assumed, was the benefit of Pansy's manager.

"I'll have the chicken sandwich. _No _tomatoes. And make sure that's _all _white meat," Ginny said in the haughtiest tone Hermione had ever heard her use.

Pansy gritted her teeth and looked to Hermione.

"Just the fish and chips for me," Hermione said simply.

Pansy nodded and darted away once again.

Ginny laughed and took a long sip from her butterbeer. Hermione wondered why she wasn't enjoying this as much as Ginny seemed to be. She had been picked on just as much, if not more, than Ginny had. She supposed that she was just more mature than her redheaded friend. It seemed to be a thoroughly Weasley trait to hold grudges for so long.

Once Ginny had gotten over the majority of her amusement, the two young women chatted amiably and enjoyed their meals once they arrived. Pansy returned only twice after brining their meals; once to refill their drinks, and then again to bring the check.

"I have to run to the loo," Ginny said, putting down a few sickles for her half of the bill as she stood up.

Hermione paid her half, then headed towards the door to wait for Ginny. Unexpectedly, she felt someone tug at her elbow. She turned to find herself face to face with Pansy, who looked grave.

"Er–can I help you with something?" Hermione asked nervously. She wondered if Pansy was going to punch her.

"You're in Healer training," Pansy said. It wasn't a question.

"Yes..."

"Draco Malfoy is in your class."

"Yes, but what–"

Pansy cut her off. "I need you to give him a message for me, Granger," Pansy said solemnly.

"Well we don't exactly chat all–"

Pansy cut her off again. "Regardless," she said with an impatient wave of her arm. "You must tell Draco that he _needs_ to respond to my letters, or else he will seriously regret it."

Hermione blinked, unsure what to say. Pansy looked at her intently.

"Well, Granger? Will you tell him that?" Pansy demanded.

"Er–well, I suppose I could," Hermione answered. She couldn't really think of a reason to refuse.

Pansy looked relieved. "Thank you," she said quietly, before hurrying away.

Hermione stared after her for a moment until Ginny appeared. Ginny glanced briefly between Hermione and Pansy.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Oh–nothing," Hermione lied. "I forgot my bag at the table. Pansy was just returning it to me." For some reason, she felt it best not to tell Ginny about her and Pansy's brief exchange.

Ginny looked suspicious, but let it pass. "Right. Back to shopping then?"

Hermione suppressed a groan. "Oh all right."

Ginny smirked and the two of them headed back out to the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

*****

Draco stood rigidly, the cold sea spray battering his cloak and stinging his exposed skin. He faced the rough-hewn stone archway that led into perhaps the most desolate place on earth–Azkaban prison. As always, Draco hesitated before entering, steeling himself for the brief yet emotionally draining experience of visiting his parents. Though he only came every few months, a short trip to Azkaban was enough to depress him for days.

"Going in or what?" the Ministry official that accompanied Draco asked gruffly.

Draco resisted the urge to snap at the man. He merely nodded and strode purposefully into the gloomy prison interior. He reflexively reached for his wand, momentarily forgetting that he was required to leave it with the Ministry official. _That coward won't even come in with me, like he's supposed to_, Draco thought with a scoff.

The presence of the Dementors was already beginning to wear on Draco. He focused on his singular purpose of visiting his parents, and did his best to keep his thoughts from wandering anywhere but the path he must follow to find their cells. His spirits were slightly lifted knowing that he had adequate skills in wandless magic.

Before long, Draco had arrived at the group of cells that contained his parents. He was careful to avoid the cells he knew to contain other Death Eaters. The Ministry had made sure that none of them would be placed near one another (save for Lucius and Narcissa) to avoid scheming.

Draco stopped and cleared his throat. He steeled himself for what was to come.

"Draco?" came a weak voice from the darkness of the cell.

"Hello, Mother," Draco replied.

Narcissa emerged from the shadows, a smile stretching the papery skin of her cheeks. Draco summoned all of his strength to keep from cringing at the sight of his mother, worn bone-thin by the rigors of a prisoner's lifestyle. He forced a smile, for her sake.

"Oh Draco, you're looking well. So handsome."

She reached her thin, frail hands through the bars and Draco clasped them. Her hands felt cold as ice, and Draco hoped that some of his warmth would transfer to his ailing mother.

"You look lovely, as always, Mother," Draco said evenly. He had to control the tone of his voice to keep the sadness out. It broke his heart to see his mother this way, despite knowing that she deserved to be in here. These conflicting emotions clawed at his insides and all he could do to suppress it was to focus on each moment as it passed.

Narcissa managed a rasping laugh. "You're a good boy, Draco. I love you very much."

"Draco?"

Draco turned his head toward the sound of his father's voice. Lucius had appeared at the bars of the adjacent cell. He looked to be faring better than Narcissa, though his bones were more prominent under his skin, and dark circles sat under his cold eyes.

"Father," Draco said simply. He did not hold the same sympathy for his father that he did for his mother.

Lucius stuck a bony hand through the bars. Draco let go of his mother's hands to shake hands with his father.

"How are things at home?" Lucius asked.

"Fine, thank you. Gertie takes good care of the Manor."

Lucius nodded. "And you? What are you doing with yourself?"

Draco hesitated for a moment before replying, "I've enrolled in Healer training."

As Draco anticipated, Lucius looked displeased. And despite everything, Draco still hated to disappoint his father.

"Well, that may not be the path I would have chosen for you, but whatever must be done to restore the Malfoy name," Lucius sneered. Draco knew that he was keeping from saying several choice things, and he was glad. Lucius wouldn't want to upset Narcissa during the brief time Draco was there.

"Yes, Father. That is my ultimate goal."

"Very good."

"We're proud of you, Draco," Narcissa interjected. "Your father and I," she said with a pointed look at her husband.

Lucius merely nodded. "Are you still on good terms with Theodore Nott?"

Draco froze at the mention of Nott's name. "Why do you ask?" he questioned cautiously.

"He is a valuable ally," Lucius said, a hard edge coming to his voice.

"Indeed, he is," Draco responded, not really answering the question. He thought it best to avoid the subject of Theodore Nott. His father would not be happy to learn about their altercation the previous week. It seemed it was time to end his visit, lest any uncomfortable questions arise.

"I must be going," Draco said. He shook hands with his father, meeting the older Malfoy's penetrating gaze with a defiant expression. Draco was the patriarch of the Malfoy family now, and he would not allow Lucius to intimidate him as he once had. Lucius seemed to recognize something of this, and his stern countenance wavered only slightly; none but Draco would have noticed. Draco felt a surge of victory, but allowed none of it to register on his face.

Narcissa was not aware of the subtle exchange, and simply reached for her son's hands, pressing her cracked lips to his knuckles. Draco bent forward and placed a tender kiss on his mother's forehead.

"Goodbye, Mother," he said softly.

Narcissa smiled and bid Draco goodbye. With one last look at his mother, Draco turned and walked resolutely towards the entranceway.

As he walked, his thoughts consumed him. He couldn't believe his father's nerve; he was imprisoned for life in Azkaban, yet he still had the nerve to criticize. And the sight of his mother wasting away was almost too much to bear. With these dark thoughts invading his consciousness, Draco became acutely aware of the Dementors' presence. Quite suddenly, the rattling breaths were all around him. Dark shapes appeared to be oozing from every shadow.

Draco's breath quickened. He found himself gasping for air. He began to hear voices..._Severus, please..._

"No..." Draco croaked. He couldn't bear to relive that night. The night he was supposed to kill Dumbledore.

He saw light ahead. The entrance wasn't far off, but making it there seemed near impossible. _Are you content living alone at Malfoy Manor with your house-elf?_

Draco was remotely aware of the sharp pain shooting up his legs as he sank to his knees on the cold stone. The rotting stench of death surrounded him. He searched his mind for something, anything, that could give him the strength to get up, or even call out to the Ministry official. He swayed on the spot, his vision wavering, when the image of Hermione Granger asking him to join her work group came unbidden into his mind.

The feeble image was enough to allow Draco to rise to his feet. He clung to it, the idea that someone had invited him to be a part of something, no matter how small, to stumble toward the entranceway.

The Ministry official turned when he heard footsteps approaching. He seemed unfazed by Draco's disheveled appearance. He thrust Draco's wand out roughly, and Draco snatched it with a look of pure loathing on his face. Draco straightened and smoothed out his cloak, trying to shake off the feeling of the Dementors surrounding him.

"Let's go," the official said curtly.

The two of them walked outside, back into the stinging spray of the sea, and Apparated far away from the godforsaken piece of rock.

*****

Back at Malfoy Manor, Draco sank into an armchair with his face in his hands.

"Gertie!" he called.

The house-elf appeared immediately. "Yes Master Draco?"

"Get me a drink."

* * *

**A/N: I know things might seem slow right now, but I promise it will pick up soon. The next chapter will have a lot more Draco/Hermione interaction.** **So don't you fret. ;)**


	5. Forgetting the Past

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Forgetting the Past

* * *

"Malfoy, are you even paying attention?" Hermione hissed.

They were supposed to be thinking up symptoms for a mystery patient that the rest of the class would diagnose. Hermione kept glancing over at Malfoy for input, but he seemed to be off in another world. His eyes were unfocused and Hermione could tell that something was on his mind. But she was irritated that he wasn't paying attention to their work.

Draco snapped out of his reverie at the sound of Hermione's voice. His mind had wandered to thoughts of Azkaban and the unwelcome image of Draco himself in a dingy prison uniform, descending into madness in a lonely cell.

"Sorry. My mind is...elsewhere," he offered as an apology. Draco knew that he was being a poor teammate, but it was hard to keep on task when he was distracted by his recent trip to Azkaban. He still couldn't banish the image of his poor mother from his mind.

"Well, instead of being sorry, you can come up with the next symptom we want to use," Hermione said. She was no-nonsense when it came to their work. She looked over at Edwin, who seemed rather pleased that she was reprimanding Malfoy. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Draco was torn between cowering from Granger's sharp, McGonagall-like tone and laughing at the fact that he actually felt guilty for letting Granger down. He settled on a shrugging off the whole thing and trying to focus on his work.

"How about this–the patient twitches uncontrollably anytime someone mentions roasted potatoes."

Edwin started to laugh, but quickly turned it into an awkward cough when he noticed that Hermione was not amused.

"Be serious!" Hermione had to keep a smile from creeping onto her face. She loathed to admit it, but she found Malfoy rather amusing. He made several sly comments during each class that no one but her and Edwin could hear, and she always had to exert all her effort into keeping from laughing.

Draco smirked. He could tell by the way the corner's of Granger's mouth twitched that she was trying not to smile. For a moment, he forgot that this was the same Hermione Granger that he had called a Mudblood and treated like dirt for years. And it even seemed as though she forgot those things too. _Either she's got a poor memory or she's far more forgiving than she has a right to be_, Draco thought.

"The patient could exhibit memory loss and confusion. It would give the other students cause to think that the patient may have been tortured under the Cruciatus Curse for prolonged periods of time. That way they don't simply diagnose the patient right away. I'm sure Healer Blarney will award us points if we make it tricky."

Hermione marveled at the way Malfoy seemed to rapidly switch back and forth between a jokester and a serious student. She imagined a switch in his head that he flicked on and off at his choosing. The thought made her chuckle involuntarily.

"So _now _you laugh, when I'm being serious? For shame, Granger. I thought you were more dedicated than that," Draco teased.

Hermione scowled, but there was no fire behind it. She resisted the urge to quip back, knowing that she could easily get caught up in such banter. Her and Malfoy did have a history of such things, after all, though now it was not so malicious as it had been. She couldn't yet be sure, but some subtle difference in him made her able to look past their less than friendly history.

"Anyway," she began, ignoring his previous comment. "That is a good suggestion. I think we should definitely incorporate some sort of memory loss. It would work well with the other symptoms of disorientation. Thoughts, Edwin?"

Edwin opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Healer Blarney announcing lunch break.

"Well, we'll return to this after lunch," Hermione said. "Try not to lose your trains of thought."

Draco rolled his eyes. Leave it to Granger to take the fun out of lunch. Though he did admire her work ethic. At Hogwarts, he'd resented being bested by a muggle-born witch in all their classes, but now he realized that she truly worked hard for and deserved all of her top grades.

He watched Granger and Chambers leave the classroom to head to the cafeteria. It was laughable the way Chambers followed her around like a lost puppy. It reminded Draco of the way Pansy used to tag along after him everywhere he went. He shuddered as he left the classroom and headed towards the cafeteria.

Hermione glanced back at Malfoy before leaving the classroom. He either didn't come to the cafeteria, or sat alone. She supposed it was understandable why he didn't attempt to make friends with any of their classmates; they still shot him dirty looks when he spoke up in class.

"What do you think of Malfoy?" Edwin asked abruptly.

Hermione started; she had forgotten she was walking with Edwin. "He's very bright. And does good work when he sets his mind to it," she replied.

"Oh–yes. But I mean...well, d'you reckon he's still, you know...a..._Death Eater?_" he said the last part barely above a whisper.

Hermione was surprised that Edwin was asking such a thing. She hadn't really gotten the impression that he had a problem with Malfoy. If anything, he seemed slightly intimidated by their blonde partner.

"Certainly not," Hermione said, a little more forcefully than she had intended. It wasn't until that moment that she realized that's how she felt. It surprised her a bit, but she didn't dwell on the thought.

"Oh. Well, it's just that...some of the other people in class think so. They don't trust him."

Hermione waved her hand in the air, as if to banish the notion. "Don't put so much stock in what other people say. Do _you _think he's a Death Eater?"

Edwin was silent for a moment. "Well, no. I don't think so."

"There you have it, then," Hermione said crisply.

Edwin looked embarrassed, but they quickly arrived at the cafeteria and it was as if the conversation was forgotten. Edwin got in line for a meal, but Hermione wasn't very hungry. She paid for a fruit plate and looked around the room.

The majority of her classmates were clustered at a few round wooden tables. Several tables away sat Malfoy, alone, picking at a salad. Some of the students cast dark glares at Malfoy every so often, then fell to whispering. Hermione felt indignation rise within her at such pettiness. Edwin headed towards the tables, motioning for Hermione to join him. She ignored him and marched over to where Malfoy was sitting, settling into a seat across from him.

"Granger?" Draco was genuinely surprised. He hardly had time to erase the shocked expression from his face.

Somewhere within her, Hermione was pleased to cause a reaction in Malfoy. He remained clinically unruffled by most things.

"I thought you could use some company," Hermione said.

"I suppose there's no harm in that," Draco replied, keeping a neutral tone.

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Now that Hermione was there, she was unsure of what to say. It wasn't as if her and Draco Malfoy had much in common. Thankfully, Malfoy broke the tension.

"So Granger, what have you been up to since Hogwarts?"

His thoughts turned to the last time he remembered seeing her, before the Healer training began. It was two years ago, after the battle at Hogwarts. There had been a memorial service for all those who had fallen in the battle. Draco had felt out of place there, but he wanted to pay his respects. Granger had been there, alongside Potter and Weasley, of course. He recalled it vividly; her crying into Weasley's shoulder. Perhaps it was because she, more so than anyone else, had been the object of his malice. A wave of guilt washed over him as he once again wondered how he could have ever been so cruel. In a strange way, he was grateful for Voldemort's task in his sixth year. It had changed him fundamentally, and for the better.

"I was an intern at the Ministry for a year. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures office," she replied.

"Sounds like a cushy position. What made you give that up?"

Hermione vaguely considered whether or not Malfoy was genuinely interested, but went on regardless. "It wasn't for me. I wanted to do something more hands-on. I want to help people directly, not just through pages of legislation. Of course I'm still very interested in the welfare of magical creatures, I haven't given up on that," Hermione explained.

Draco smiled. He could tell she was very passionate about her work. "You'll make an excellent Healer."

Hermione felt a blush creep up her cheeks. She never did respond well to compliments. And it was hard to tell with Malfoy; he may have been smiling, but the way his eyes remained emotionless was disarming. "Well, I mean, it's only been a few weeks...it's hard to say, this early on..."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Stop rambling, Granger. You _know_ you'll be brilliant at it."

Hermione didn't want to blush more, so she quickly turned the conversation away from her. "You're not so bad at this Healer business yourself, Malfoy."

The trademark smirk graced Draco's lips once more. "You know, I think you're right."

Hermione laughed. "Seriously. I have to admit I was surprised to see you of all people on the first day of class. Why did you decide to join the program?"

"I spent the last year feeling sorry for myself, and I decided it was time for a change." Draco didn't want to get much more into it than that. Granger didn't need to know the depths of his miserable, drunken existence for the past year.

Hermione wasn't satisfied. "But you're Draco _Malfoy. _You could do anything, really. Why Healing?"

Draco sighed. "I was tired of hurting people."

Hermione didn't quite know how to respond to that. She looked away uncomfortably, and noticed Edwin peering over his glass of water at her. She quickly turned her gaze back towards Malfoy. He wore an unreadable expression.

Draco hadn't meant to make her uncomfortable, but he wanted to be honest. "Well, our first lunch conversation was bound to have its ups and downs," Draco said, trying to lighten the mood.

Hermione smiled and was pleased that Draco had once again eased the tension. "Does that mean you're through playing the brooding loner at lunch time?"

"Oh I don't know about that. It creates an air of mystery. I like to cultivate an aura." He swept a hand through his white-blond hair dramatically.

Hermione laughed again. Draco was amazed to find that she laughed so easily. Granger had always seemed so tightly wound, like a mini-McGonagall. Hermione was amazed to find that Draco Malfoy was making her laugh. A few short years ago, and she would have put money on the fact that this situation would _never _arise.

"Even if everyone hates me, I'm glad to be here. At least I didn't end up working in Diagon Alley like Nott and Parkinson," Draco said derisively.

The mention of Diagon Alley and Pansy sparked Hermione's memory. She had forgotten about Pansy's request until that moment.

"Er–I actually ran into Pansy last weekend. Ginny and I were out to lunch at Circe's Cauldron." She paused, wanting to gauge his response. He seemed uninterested so far.

"Go on." Draco wondered what Pansy and Granger could have possibly had to say to one another. He could only imagine how angry she would have been to serve Granger and the Weaslette.

"Right. Well, as I was leaving, Pansy cornered me. She asked me to give you a message."

"Oh?" _Pansy must be getting desperate_, he thought.

"She said to tell you...that you _need_ to respond to her letters, or you _will_ regret it."

Hermione thought Malfoy might be angry upon hearing this, but instead he laughed. He didn't seem bothered in the least by the veiled threat.

"You aren't–uh–worried?" Hermione asked.

Draco scoffed. "Not in the least. I'd avoid that place in the future if I were you, Granger. Pansy will likely spit in your food."

Hermione made a face, and silently vowed never to return to Circe's Cauldron.

The scraping of chairs on the floor told Hermione and Draco that lunch was over. Like a fly to honey, Edwin appeared at Hermione's side. She caught a glimpse of Malfoy rolling his eyes, and suppressed a small smile.

"Back to work then?" Edwin said cheerfully.

Hermione suspected he was trying to impress her with his eagerness to work, but she didn't want to sound conceited, so she said nothing. She didn't have to; Malfoy spoke up anyway.

"Admirable work ethic you've got there, Chambers," he said sardonically.

The three of them walked back to class, Hermione and Draco both pondering that the rather pleasant conversation they had shared with a former enemy. Hermione was picturing the look on Ron's face if he knew who she had just eaten lunch with. Draco was picturing his father's face if he knew that his son was chatting with a muggle-born.

*****

Hermione and Draco ate lunch together for the remainder of the week. They chatted mostly about class, and what they envisioned it would be like to be a full-fledged Healer. Hermione found that Malfoy knew quite a lot about the world of Healing, and that he had clearly done his research before enrolling. This impressed her greatly, for she had done the same thing.

Draco continued to be astonished by the depth of Granger's knowledge. There didn't seem to be a topic that she wasn't informed about. Not that Draco had spent much of the last two years talking to anyone, but Granger nonetheless was significantly less idiotic than his former "friends."

The talk inevitably turned to Hogwarts one afternoon. Hermione carefully avoided bringing up anything from their sixth or seventh year. She knew that Malfoy had gone through a lot of dark stuff, and there was no point in delving into those memories over a casual lunch. Draco realized what she was doing, and was silently grateful that she had enough foresight to do so.

They had just finished reliving Draco's brief stint as a ferret, much to his chagrin. Hermione was still chuckling when Draco recalled another humiliating moment of his.

"Remember that time in third year, when you slapped me across the face?" Draco asked, rubbing his cheek as if it still stung from her blow.

Hermione grinned. "Of course. You deserved it, you know.

Draco feigned indignation. "What could I have possibly done to deserve _your _ire?"

Hermione scoffed. "Among the list of things you did to anger me, that time you were mocking Hagrid after he'd found out Buckbeak was to be executed."

"That ruddy bird nearly took my arm off!"

"Not that nonsense again," Hermione said, rolling her eyes.

Draco laughed. "I suppose I did deserve it. Dunno what I was thinking, provoking that great brute."

"I suspect you wanted to one-up Harry," Hermione observed.

Draco shrugged. "You're probably right. Potter always did bug me."

"I dare say it was a bit more than that. But the past is the past, after all."

Draco nodded absently. To think his enmity with Potter all started over something so simple; a handshake. Potter had spurned Draco's offer of friendship in favor of Weasley. Back then, it had seemed the gravest of offenses. Now, it seemed quite silly. Draco cursed his father for helping to turn him into such a git.

"Malfoy?"

"Oh–sorry. Mind wandering again. What did you say?"

"I said: Lunch is over. We'd better get back to class," Hermione repeated. She often noticed Malfoy slip into these short periods of distraction, where his eyes seemed to be miles away. She couldn't fathom what he might be thinking about, but it felt inappropriate to ask.

"Right," Draco replied, standing up.

The two of them headed out of the cafeteria, joined soon thereafter by a jealous-looking Edwin Chambers.

*****

Draco sat in his bed, reviewing the homework on medicinal fungi he had just completed. He stretched and lay back languidly against his soft pillows. _Enough fungi for one night_, he decided.

He thought back to the rest of his week. That he was presently on cordial speaking terms with Hermione Granger still boggled his mind. _Things change_, he supposed. _I certainly have._ He was cautious, though; he did not want to get his hopes up that he had finally found a potential friend. Or at least someone to talk to.

Gertie appeared suddenly, breaking his thoughts.

"What is it, Gertie?"

The little house-elf thrust her hand out. She looked nervous. Her tiny fist was clutching a letter.

"From Miss Parkinson, sir," Gertie squeaked.

Draco groaned. "Throw it in the fire," he commanded.

Gertie nodded and set off to complete the task. She returned shortly thereafter, to see if Draco required anything else.

"If I receive any correspondence from Miss Parkinson in the future, you can burn it immediately. I don't need to be notified."

"Yes, sir."

"That will be all."

Gertie bowed and Disapparated on the spot.

Draco hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't worried. Pansy's feeble threat didn't bother him. She often resorted to such means when she wasn't getting what she wanted. The worst that would happen now was that Pansy would come knocking on the front door of Malfoy Manor. And then Draco could simply strengthen the enchantments, or just ignore her completely. Silencing Charms worked wonders.

Draco yawned widely, suddenly very aware of how tired he was. He wouldn't need a Sleeping Draught. He only hoped that visions of Azkaban didn't haunt his dreams.

He quickly changed into silky emerald-colored pajama pants and a black t-shirt. As he lay in bed, he found himself wondering what it would be like to be out with a group of friends on a Friday night. Friends who laughed and had a good time, not just tolerated each other's presence for social stakes. Draco couldn't help but wonder if Granger was doing just that, while he sat alone in an empty mansion.

Draco hated to admit it, but he was jealous of the Golden Trio's friendship. Granger, Potter, and Weasley were the best of friends, no matter what happened to them. They even remained friends after graduating. Draco had no idea what that was like; all of his old friends either hated him, or recently, sent him obnoxious letters and paid unwelcome visits to talk about unsettling things. Briefly, Draco pictured himself sitting at a pub with Granger, Potter, and Weasley. But the thought of hanging out with Potter and Weasley quickly made him gag, and he decided against imagining such things in the future.

Draco sighed and closed his eyes. He drifted off to sleep, fighting unwanted dreams that involved him Potter, and Weasley ballet dancing in matching outfits.

*****

The Three Broomsticks was bustling with activity on Friday night. Hermione sat at a table with Ron, Harry, and Ginny, as well as Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom. Hermione was glad to catch up with Luna and Neville; she hadn't seen either of them for months. Luna spent most of her time traveling with her father, hunting for rare artifacts to fill the pages of the _Quibbler_, which she also wrote for. Neville was pursuing his interest in Herbology, even working with Professor Sprout to hopefully take over her position someday.

Luna had just finished telling them about her latest expedition to find a new Crumple-Horned Snorkack horn, since the last one was blown up when Death Eaters attacked the house looking for Harry. Hermione kept herself from reminding Luna that what had blown up was in fact an Erumpet horn, not the fictional Snorkack.

"Don't worry Luna, I'm sure you'll find your Snorkack," Ron assured her in the most serious tone he could muster.

"They are elusive creatures, but Dad and I are optimistic," Luna said dreamily.

Everyone tried to mask their snickering by taking large sips of their butterbeers.

"So Neville, what's it like being at Hogwarts when you're no longer a student?" Harry asked.

"It's different, somehow," Neville replied. "I can't really explain it. Everything seemed more...mysterious...as a student, I suppose."

"Like when we found the Room of Requirement for our DA meetings," Ginny added.

Everyone smiled, recalling how much fun it was to sneak around right under Umbridge's nose. Even Hermione had enjoyed it.

"Or the Marauder's Map, eh Harry?" Ron said.

Harry nodded his agreement as he took a sip of butterbeer. "And don't forget my cloak. We found loads of stuff with its help."

"Of course. Can't imagine how we would have managed," said Ron.

"Perhaps we all would have kept out of trouble," Hermione noted.

"Well then what fun would it have all been?" Ron replied.

Hermione had to concede, all the mischief that Harry, Ron, and even she got into made their school years interesting to say the least.

"I was always so jealous of you three," Ginny admitted. "Always going off on your adventures."

"Yeah," Neville agreed. "I was just glad to be a part of it sometimes. Like in fifth year at the Ministry. As terrible as that was..."

Luna nodded. "It was nice to be included."

Hermione, Harry, and Ron all looked at one another, smiling privately knowing that it was true; the three of them had been through a lot together and nothing could break the bonds that tied them to one another.

"Well, I'm glad we were all able to get together like this," Hermione said, directing her gaze at Neville and Luna. "We really shouldn't go so long without seeing each other."

"We see each other all the time," Ron said.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She didn't mean us, you blockhead."

Ron looked sheepish and took another sip of butterbeer.

Hermione laughed. "Of course I love seeing you three all the time as well."

"You better, or else all you'll have left is Malfoy," Ron said with a derisive laugh.

Hermione cringed inwardly. She had hoped the conversation wouldn't turn to Malfoy. She hadn't told her friends about her recent lunch partner.

"What about Malfoy?" Luna questioned while prodding something unseen in the air. Everyone ignored her odd behavior, but some other patrons were looking at her curiously.

"Hermione and Malfoy are in the same class for Healer training," Harry explained.

Neville's eyes widened. "Blimey, Hermione. That's awful."

Hermione shook her head. "It's really not all bad. Malfoy mostly keeps to himself. He's very different than the Malfoy you all remember. Not one crack about me being a Mudblood yet." She suddenly felt very defensive. She wanted to explain that Malfoy had changed, but she didn't think anyone would understand, or even believe. Except perhaps, for Luna. Hermione wasn't sure if the girl's flighty mind was even capable of holding a grudge.

Predictably, Ron, Ginny, and Neville all looked incredulous. Hermione hadn't expected them to take her word for it. Harry, said nothing, but Hermione could tell that he was willing to believe her. She wouldn't have as much trouble with him as with Ron and the others if she ever decided to tell them about her and Malfoy's lunches together.

"You just let us know if he tries anything. We'll take care of him," Ron said ominously.

Ginny snorted into her butterbeer. "Oh yeah? And exactly what would you do, Ron? Barf slugs all over him?"

Everyone left, with the exception of Ron, who's ears turned as red as his hair. Hermione patted him on the arm.

"I appreciate the offer," Hermione said consolingly. "But I think I'll be able to manage."

Ron looked slightly mollified, but he occasionally sent Ginny an angry glare, to which she responded with a grin.

The six of them chatted and drank butterbeers until the late hours of the evening. One by one, they dropped off, until it was just Harry and Hermione left at the table. Ron and Ginny were both heading back to the Burrow for the night. The family was making a trip to visit Bill and Fleur in the morning.

Hermione thought for a moment before talking to Harry about Malfoy. She knew she couldn't say anything while Ron and the others were still there. She was even hesitant about talking to Ginny. But Harry was different, and he wouldn't tell Ginny or Ron if she asked him not to say anything.

"Harry, can I tell you something?"

"Sure. Anything."

"Well, I'd rather you not say anything to anyone just yet. Not even Ron or Ginny."

Harry looked interested. "Of course. Though if it's something important you know they'll want to know too..."

Hermione nodded. "I know, I know. It's just...they wouldn't be ready to hear it."

"Get on with it, I'm at the edge of my seat here," Harry said with a lopsided grin.

Hermione took a deep breath, suddenly unsure of her decision. "Well, the thing is, I think...I think I've become, sort of..._friends_...with Malfoy."

She braced herself for Harry's reaction, but he seemed more stunned than anything. There was no trace of anger on his features. Hermione let out a short breath of relief and waited for him to say something.

"Well," Harry began slowly. "I don't really know what to say. Other than I never would have expected that."

"I know. Me neither. But he really does seem...different. We're not best mates or anything. But we talk."

Harry shook his head, laughing lightly. "I can't even _picture _it. You and Malfoy having a chat about the weather."

Hermione laughed too. She was grateful that Harry wasn't going to explode on her like she knew Ron was bound to if he found out.

"So why did you tell me?" Harry asked. Hermione had expected this question, and was prepared to answer it.

"You know as well as I do that you've changed as well, Harry. You're more mature now. I knew you out of everyone would be the most understanding, not only of the fact that I'm talking to Malfoy, but of the fact that people can change."

Hermione hoped that didn't sound too rehearsed. But Harry seemed pleased with her answer. He smiled, and took a sip of butterbeer.

"Well don't worry, Hermione. I won't say anything. But if you start bringing him 'round the pub, Ron and Ginny are bound to notice."

"I wouldn't worry about that," Hermione said. "Somehow, I think our friendship will remained confined to school hours."

As she said that, however, Hermione wasn't sure if she wanted that to be true. She shook off the feeling, and tried to ignore the nagging thought that she _could_ picture herself hanging out with Malfoy outside of school.

"It's getting late," Harry said. "We should both probably get some sleep."

Hermione agreed. They paid their tabs, and headed out into the chilly night air.

"Goodnight," Harry said. "You'll be around me and Ron's sometime during the week, right?"

"I'm sure," Hermione replied. "Goodnight!"

They shared a brief hug, and then both Apparated out of sight.

Hermione arrived at the end of her street. It was the closest she felt safe Apparating without being seen. She walked briskly to her apartment, shutting the door quickly behind her as she entered. The weather had turned from summer to fall in the blink of an eye.

Once inside, Hermione changed into a warm pair of pajamas and hopped into bed. It wasn't long before the pleasant warmth lulled her to sleep.

*****

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she could have sworn she dreamed about Malfoy, but it hovered just on the edge of her consciousness. But for the rest of the day, she couldn't get the image of a certain smirking blonde out of her head.


	6. Chance Encounters

02:58

**A/N:** I just want to thank everyone who continues to read and review. All of your reviews are much appreciated, and inspire me to keep going with the story. I hope you continue to enjoy. :)

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Chance Encounters

"And during your rounds, you will be expected to report to the Senior Healer on duty, deferring to him or her on all matters. I'll be posting the schedule by the end of the week," Healer Blarney explained. "Now if an emergency situation should arise..."

Draco picked at a frayed thread on the sleeve of his robes. Not that he wasn't excited to be starting some hands-on work, but Healer Blarney had been explaining how their rounds would work for the past half an hour. He looked up briefly to see Granger, sitting up straight and not missing so much as a syllable. Draco smirked and returned to the thread-by-thread destruction of his Healer uniform.

"...sure to always check the patient's chart before dispensing treatment. This is the best way to avoid any unpleasantness and..."

Draco thought he pinpointed his boredom, but he was hesitant to admit it to himself. Begrudgingly, he had realized that classes so far that week had been duller than usual were because there was no group work to be done. And, though he hated to even think it, he missed working with Granger. Some part of him still rebelled against the idea of being friends with her; a remnant of his ridiculous past prejudices. He reminded himself that he needed a friend, and should take the fact that he missed their collaborative school work as a good sign.

When he sat with her at lunch later that afternoon, his internal struggles were forgotten.

"Class has been rather dull this week, wouldn't you say?" Draco questioned, prodding a rubbery piece of chicken with his fork.

Hermione swallowed a bite of her potatoes. "Oh no, I find Healer Blarney's lectures quite stimulating. And don't you dare roll your eyes," she added, noticing the cynical look creeping onto Malfoy's features.

Hermione enjoyed Healer Blarney's lessons, despite the lack of actual work they had done this week. She understood that he needed to teach them certain things in a lecture format, but she couldn't deny that she preferred the group work. Although it gave her a break from Edwin's sad attempts to catch her fancy, Hermione would rather be working with Malfoy. She had trouble admitting that to herself at first, but his quick mind and sharp wit was actually enjoyable to work with.

After divulging her burgeoning friendship with Malfoy to Harry, Hermione felt somehow more comfortable with it. That Harry seemed okay with it made it easier to forget the past and accept that she could be friends with a former Slytherin and Death Eater. Though if she thought about it for too long, it became almost too much to fathom.

"Well," Draco began, suppressing a grin. "At least we start our rounds soon. That ought to liven things up."

Hermione's eyes brightened at the mention of this. "Oh yes, I'm very excited "

Draco was surprised by her exuberance, and smiled warmly. Sadly, he wished he felt so passionate about something. Granger looked embarrassed by her outburst of excitement, and looked away.

"Don't be ashamed, Granger," Draco said, a smile still playing about his lips. "I'm excited too."

"I'm not ashamed," she said indignantly, her cheeks still red.

Draco laughed. She was abysmal at controlling her expressions. Draco was acutely aware of his facial expressions almost constantly; it rarely required conscious effort on his part to keep an impassive look in his eyes or on his face. _Is that something I should be proud of?_ He thought sardonically.

Hermione's defiance faded as she realized she was being silly. Malfoy could get a rise out of her with a few words. Strangely, Hermione found she didn't mind; it was actually fun to argue with him.

Draco decided not to push Granger once she seemed to cool down. "So, seeing as I was less than attentive in class today...how exactly is the schedule going to be arranged?"

Hermione huffed at the mention of inattentiveness in class. "Since we still have class, we'll be doing the earlier of the night shifts, that is, the one from 7:00 until 1:00am."

"God, it would be bloody awful to work until 6:00am then go to class," Draco interjected.

Hermione nodded her agreement. "We'll each get two shifts a week to start, on a rotating schedule. There's likely to be two or three of us on any given shift."

"Well hopefully we'll get some shifts together," Draco responded absently, not even thinking as the words came tumbling from his lips. He fought the impulse to clap a hand over his mouth.

Hermione's eyes widened slightly, shocked that he would admit such a thing. She observed a tightening of his features, but he made no stuttering retraction, like she had come to expect from men when they let something slip they'd not meant to.

"Yes, we have worked rather well together, wouldn't you say?" Hermione said cautiously. She wanted to see how Malfoy would react, if he would revert to his old self. Neither of them had really openly acknowledged their friendship to one another.

Draco prided himself on his ability to read people. And right now, he knew that Granger was testing him to see how he would react to her open admission of their relationship. The old Draco would have scoffed and made some venomous remark. But that reaction flared up and faded away almost instantly.

"Indeed, I'd say so," Draco replied casually, careful to keep much emotion from seeping into his voice.

Hermione smiled briefly. He sounded guarded, but she didn't think too much on it. She supposed it was natural for him to be reluctant in admitting he enjoying working with her. The fact that he admitted it at all kept her from being bothered by his nonchalant tone.

Draco decided it was time to lighten the mood before things got too serious. "If only we didn't have Chambers dragging us down, eh? Slower than a box of rocks, that bloke. Dunno how he got into the program..."

Hermione couldn't stifle a laugh as she glanced over at Edwin. He wasn't stupid, but then again, he wasn't as bright as Malfoy. "Now Malfoy, that's not nice. If he wasn't smart, he wouldn't have been accepted."

"I suppose. But if he's your partner during your rounds I'd watch out. Don't want him giving patients the wrong medications, or forgetting where the bathroom is."

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed in feigned outrage. "He'll hear you," she added quietly, casting another furtive glance in Edwin's direction. He looked over at their table with interest, to which Draco responded with a wave and deliberately cheesy grin. Hermione covered her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. Edwin looked confused and turned back to his own table

"You're awful," Hermione said.

Draco smirked. "I know."

*****

Autumn seemed to be in full swing by the weekend. A few sparse clouds flitted across the blue sky. The air was crisp with the scent of leaves and the hint of frost from the cold morning. Shoppers donned heavier coats and sweaters for the first time since early spring. There was an excited undercurrent to the crowd; everyone seemed to be giddy in the fresh autumn weather.

Having successfully avoided another invitation from Edwin Chambers, Hermione walked the crooked street of Diagon Alley alone. She'd told him she had plans with the Weasleys, which wasn't _exactly_ a lie, since she had plans to go there for dinner. Hermione hoped that one of these times she wouldn't actually run into Edwin. It was entirely possible. She decided against being paranoid. Once again, Hermione questioned exactly why she kept declining Edwin's polite invitations; he was nice and generally pleasant to be around. He would be a good friend. _That's it, though_. Hermione thought. As long as Edwin was interested in her romantically, she didn't want to lead him on.

She had a light lunch (_not_ at Circe's Cauldron) and decided to visit Flourish and Blotts to browse for some new reading material. She pulled her black cardigan tighter around her, and rubbed her arms for warmth. She got to Flourish and Blotts just as she realized that she should have brought a thicker sweater, or perhaps a scarf. Hermione had hardly even realized that fall had arrived.

As she stepped through the doors, Hermione was greeted by the subtly musty scent of books and parchment. She sighed contentedly; there was nothing quite like the inviting aroma of a bookstore. After wandering aimlessly for a few minutes, Hermione settled in a section that contained medical books. What they were learning in class was intriguing, but she yearned to learn more and faster. She picked up a large volume entitled _Rare Diseases and even Rarer Treatments_ by Tilly Toadwell. Within moments, her eyes were zooming across the pages, and she completely forgot where she was.

While reading a particularly engaging passage on the medicinal use of basilisk venom, Hermione felt a tap on her shoulder. She started with a small squeak, and nearly dropped the book. When she spun around, ready to hex whoever had startled her, she was met with the grinning face of Draco Malfoy.

Draco had been feeling restless all morning. He didn't want to remain cooped up inside the somber mansion when it appeared to be quite a lovely day. Something about the fall made Draco feel more lively. With the oppressive heat of summer fading away, the cool air seemed so fresh and new. Without much further thought, Draco pulled a gray sweater over his t-shirt, grabbed his cloak and wand, and promptly Flooed to Diagon Alley.

He wasn't sure what he would do while he was there, but he'd spotted Gertie tossing a suspicious-looking piece of mail into the fire the previous evening, and decided he might have a word with Pansy Parkinson, despite not particularly wanting to see her. Other than that, he was content to browse.

A new broom display in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies caught Draco's eye. He walked over, peering over the heads of several chattering young wizards. It didn't take Draco long to realize why there was a crowd. In the window sat the newest model of the Firebolt–the Firebolt 2.0. It boasted even faster acceleration than its predecessor, and a new charm that would ensure you never fell off. Draco suddenly felt like the children who were drooling over this shiny new broom.

It had been some time since he'd played Quidditch, or even flown a broom. But seeing this new Firebolt sparked that desire within him. Instead of running into the store and buying it on impulse, Draco decided to walk around some more, and think about it a while longer.

He settled on going to Flourish and Blotts. He'd meant to pick up some new books so that he could study certain aspects of Healing on his own. When he entered the musty store, he immediately spotted a familiar head of brown hair, nose-deep in a thick book. Draco crept up behind her, and tapped her on the shoulder before she could realize he was there. With a startled yelp, she turned around, looking angry as a thundercloud. When she realized it was him, her expression softened.

"Malfoy! You scared me nearly to death," Hermione breathed, putting a hand over her heart.

"Maybe if your head wasn't stuffed halfway into that book you'd have heard me coming," Draco responded with a smug smile.

Hermione made a face and resisted the childish instinct to stick her tongue out. "So what brings you to Diagon Alley? Run out of hair gel?"

Draco winced, recalling the Dracula-esque way he used to slick back his hair. "Very funny Granger. I seem to recall a certain witch whose hair very closely resembled a shrub."

Hermione laughed. "All right, fair enough. At least we've both learned to style our hair properly."

Now that she mentioned it, Draco noticed that Granger's hair did look different. It was no longer a frizzy, bushy mess. Instead, it fell in soft waves that reached her mid-back. He wondered why he hadn't noticed the difference before.

"I spotted a crowd around Quality Quidditch Supplies. Is there a new broom out?" Hermione asked.

"Firebolt 2.0. It looks spectacular," Draco replied.

Hermione noticed an almost child-like excitement in his voice. "Are you going to buy it?"

Draco thought for a moment. "I might. I came in here hoping to talk myself out of it. But I'm not sure I can resist."

"Well if it will make you happy, you ought to get it," Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Draco smiled. Granger was convincing him to buy an outrageously expensive new racing broom. He'd expected her to tell him to save his money and spend it on something worthwhile, like a book. But she was full of surprises.

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go take another look at it..." Draco said.

Hermione put the book back on the shelf. "Let's go then," she said simply.

Draco was pleased that Granger actually wanted to come with him, but he didn't let it show. He let her lead the way out of Flourish and Blotts and over to Quality Quidditch Supplies. They stopped in front of the window to admire the new broom.

"It looks the same as Harry's Firebolt to me," Hermione admitted. She never really got the fascination with brooms, Quidditch and the whole lot of it.

Draco shook his head. "At least there's something in this world I know more about than you, even if it is just brooms."

Hermione smiled but said nothing. Draco was about to explain the subtle distinctions between the two versions of the Firebolt when he heard someone call his name from down the street.

Draco turned in the direction of the voice, and groaned when he realized it was Pansy calling to him from outside Circe's Cauldron. She looked to have just gotten off work, and was now striding resolutely towards him. He sighed; at least now he could tell her in person to stop bothering him.

Hermione hadn't heard Pansy calling, but she looked over at Malfoy and noticed that he was distracted. She followed his gaze and spotted Pansy heading towards them. Nervousness leaped up in the pit of her stomach, and she wasn't sure why. What would Pansy say when she say her and Malfoy together?

Pansy shortly closed the distance between them, a suspicious look crossing her face when she realized who Draco was with. This look was quickly replaced with anger, and it was directed at Hermione.

"I suppose you forgot to give Draco my message, eh Granger? Otherwise he might have responded by now "

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Draco beat her to it.

"She did give me your message, but that didn't change the fact that I'm not interested in what you have to say," Draco said harshly.

Pansy looked hurt, but continued. "You really ought to have read my letters. I've only been trying to help you."

"Right, because you've always been such a help to me," Draco said cynically.

"Draco, I'm serious. I wasn't trying to bother you."

Draco scoffed, and gave Pansy a skeptical look. "What are you trying to help me out with exactly?"

Pansy looked around nervously, as if waiting for someone to pop out of the shadows. She leaned closer to Draco, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "It's Theodore. I don't know exactly what's going on, but I think he's planning something. And he is not pleased with you. I just don't want to see something bad happen..."

She sounded sincere, and Draco was genuinely surprised. He hadn't expected anything like this. Yet he was always on his guard, and kept in the back of his mind the idea that Pansy could be manipulating him for her own means.

Hermione merely stood back, puzzling over what Theodore Nott could be planning, and how it could be of danger to Malfoy. She figured it was really none of her business, and let them carry on without interruption, but she was curious. She could question Malfoy after Pansy was gone. She didn't want to even make a sound with the way Pansy was shooting angry and suspicious glares in her direction every so often.

"That's it? Theodore's planning _something_? That hardly warrants a barrage of letters," Draco said, almost laughing. He was actually shocked at Pansy's weak excuse. She could usually manage to come up with something believable.

"It's not a joke. If I didn't think it was serious, I wouldn't have kept trying to contact you. And you could have replied, you know. It's rude to leave that many letters unanswered," Pansy said, her voice taking on a haughty tone.

"You're right, rude indeed. I'll be sure to observe better manners in the future," Draco replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "But I'm really not concerned with anything Nott might be doing. We've already spoken," he said coolly.

Pansy bit her lower lip. "I know. He told me."

"Then what is there to be concerned about? Why now? We've barely spoken in the past two years, Pansy."

Hermione almost wanted to cringe at the harshness in Malfoy's voice. She couldn't begin to imagine all that had happened in his life to elicit such bitterness in his tone. Pansy seemed to feel the same way, as she appeared nearer to tears each time Draco spoke so coldly to her.

"I just don't want to see anything bad happen to you," Pansy said quietly.

Draco's resolution wavered; either Pansy had become a convincing actress in the past two years, or she was genuinely concerned. With the way she'd been forced to live since Voldemort's downfall, he wouldn't be surprised if she had learned to act a part.

"Don't worry about me. I'm doing fine without your help."

Pansy looked defeated. It seemed as if there was more she wanted to say, but her eyes were brimming with tears. She turned quickly, and hurried away from Draco and Hermione, glancing back at Draco once before disappearing into a shop.

Before Hermione could protest that perhaps he was being too harsh on her, he spun around and looked at her sharply, as if he knew what she was going to say. His gray eyes flashed with anger, and Hermione swallowed her words. There was such an intensity there that Hermione found herself holding her breath.

"Don't you pity Pansy Parkinson. She never does anything without an agenda, and I suspect she's become a rather proficient actress."

Draco hadn't intended to be short with Granger, but he was in no mood to have her jump in on Pansy's behalf.

"I have no love for Pansy Parkinson, let me assure you," Hermione replied crisply. "But–"

"No 'but'," Draco interrupted. "There's nothing to be concerned about. She was just being dramatic."

Hermione made to reply, but decided to let it pass. She didn't really feel like arguing with Malfoy about something stupid. "If you say so," she said, sighing, and not really believing that Pansy was merely being "dramatic." She was naturally suspicious of Theodore Nott, but she really had nothing to go on. Perhaps she would discuss it with Harry later.

When Draco realized that Granger wasn't going to argue with him, he forced a tight smile of gratitude. He suddenly wished that he hadn't come to Diagon Alley. Talking to Pansy hadn't gone quite the way he'd expected, and left him feeling irritated.

Sensing his frustration, Hermione wanted to change the mood. "So how about the Firebolt then?"

Draco smiled slightly. He recognized that Granger was trying to take his mind off Pansy, and he appreciated it. That she even possibly cared about his mood lightened his spirits more than the suggestion itself.

"I'll take that as a yes," Hermione replied to Malfoy's shift in expression.

They went inside, and Hermione wandered about the store as Draco approached the clerk to purchase his new broom. Her eyes scanned the numerous accessories that line the shelves–handle polish, twig trimmers, broom compasses–and began unconsciously planning Harry and Ron's next Christmas gifts. As long as she bought them something to do with Quidditch or a generous supply of Honeyduke's treats, they were satisfied.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door of Quality Quidditch Supplies creaked open to admit none other than Harry Potter. Hermione quickly caught his attention and waved him over before Malfoy could turn from the counter to see who'd just entered. Recognition dawned on Harry's face as he realized who was standing at the counter, but he said nothing. He walked over to Hermione, an eyebrow quirked with interest.

"Are you alone?" she questioned nervously.

"Ron's not with me," Harry replied to her implied question. "But so much for being confined to school hours, eh?" he said, though the teasing quality to his voice told Hermione that he wasn't upset.

"Well, I hadn't planned on meeting him here. We ran into one another at Flourish and Blotts," Hermione explained.

"Yet here you are in Quality Quidditch Supplies. Ron and I can _never_ get you to come in here," Harry protested.

"Malfoy at least had a goal when he came in here, rather than spending hours browsing the latest Quidditch magazine and drooling over broom seat cushions," Hermione said tartly.

Harry grinned. "For your information, I happen to have a goal today. The new Firebolt just came out, and I've promised Ron my old one. He can't wait to have a go."

"I should have guessed. Malfoy is buying one of those right now," she said, nodding in the blonde's direction.

Harry's eyes gleamed with the competitive edge that Hermione always recognized in him when it came to Quidditch, and most things involving Malfoy back at Hogwarts. She couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes; even still, Harry couldn't help but feel the desire to upstage Malfoy. She was sure that Malfoy still held onto some of the same urge.

Before Hermione could stop him, Harry strode over to the counter where the clerk was just handing Malfoy his new broom, wrapped in brown paper. He turned, smiling broadly in Hermione's direction, until he noticed Harry. At that, his face immediately fell into a blank expression.

Draco hadn't expected to run into Potter, although it wasn't unreasonable. He lived in Diagon Alley, after all. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He surmised that today was his day to run into all the people he'd least like to speak to. _Might as well get them all out in one bang, _he thought.

"Malfoy," Harry stated, his eyes tense.

"Potter," Draco replied stiffly.

"Got the new Firebolt there?" Harry asked.

Draco nodded. "Fancy getting one for yourself?"

Harry nodded.

Hermione could hardly believe the stilted, yet surprisingly cordial exchange that was going on in front of her. Usually when Harry and Malfoy were face to face, wands were out and curses were flying from their lips. She had known that Harry would understand, but she never expected him to converse with Malfoy himself. There was a lot of bad blood there.

"Supposed to be even faster than the first model," Draco said.

"I've heard. Can't wait to try it out," Harry responded.

"Well, I'll let you attend to that," Draco said. His breathing was controlled. Talking face to face with Potter had made him extremely tense.

Harry nodded again in Draco's direction, then turned to Hermione. "I'll see you at the Burrow later"

"Right. See you," Hermione replied.

Harry promised he would, and with that Hermione and Draco left the store. Once outside, Hermione breathed a noisy sigh.

"What?" Draco asked, a smirk playing about his lips.

"Oh—nothing—well, it's just that I was afraid you and Harry would fight—or, I don't know, blow up the store slinging curses at one another," Hermione admitted.

Draco chuckled lightly. "I can see why you'd think that. But despite the chilly disposition of that conversation, I no longer wish to obliterate Potter on the spot every time I set eyes on him."

"Well, that's comforting," Hermione said.

"Don't worry Granger, I've put all that behind me. And it seems like Potter has too, for the most part. Weasley on the other hand…"

Hermione groaned. "You're lucky he isn't the one who came into the store just now. That would have been a disaster."

"He's the lucky one. If Weasley so much as twitched his wand in my direction, he'd be done for."

Hermione frowned slightly. She knew Malfoy was right, but he didn't have to say it. "I don't think that will be necessary."

"You're right," Draco replied, seeing the displeasure in her expression. "I apologize."

Hermione knew that he was sincere, and that kept her from getting upset. She had decided to put off the conversation with Ron that she'd had with Harry. Considering she wasn't exactly sure the nature or the tenure of her friendship with Malfoy, Ron need not be involved until it was absolutely necessary for him to know.

"What do you say to some ice cream at Fortescue's to improve the afternoon?" Draco suggested. "My treat."

"That sounds lovely. Though I can pay for my own."

"Don't be silly, Granger. I dragged you to go broom shopping. It's the least I can do."

"Oh, all right," Hermione conceded. She didn't see any harm in letting Malfoy buy her an ice cream.

"After you," Draco said, gesturing in the direction of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor.

They made the quick journey to the ice cream parlor, and loaded with enormous sundaes, they took seats out on the patio. As Hermione enjoyed her double chocolate, she shivered and realized it might be getting too cold to eat ice cream outdoors.

Draco gazed down the street, scanning the crowd for any other familiar faces. He hoped that they wouldn't run into Weasley, or any of the Weasleys for that matter. If he happened to spot a mane of bright red hair, he had an escape route over the railing and down the nearest alleyway. He didn't want another confrontation, nor did he want to upset Granger by beating one of her best friends senseless.

Hermione noticed Malfoy looking around. "Don't be so nervous, Malfoy. If I see Ron coming, I'll give you a signal."

"Funny," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

Hermione grinned. She too found herself looking around, checking for people she might know. Normally she would enjoy running into friends or acquaintances, but today she felt it would be nothing but trouble were that to happen. She looked far down the street, toward the spot where Knockturn Alley joined with Diagon Alley. A thin figure was emerging, and heading down the street. Before long, Hermione recognized the figure as Theodore Nott.

"Don't look now," Hermione began. "But another one of your old pals is coming this way."

Draco turned to look in the direction Hermione was staring. He groaned loudly and ran a hand through his hair. Nott was the last person in the world he wanted to see. But he was approaching quickly, and leaping up and dodging into the store would draw too much attention, so it was out of the question. He hoped desperately that Nott would pass by without noticing.

Luck was not on Draco's side today, because he heard Nott call his name from a few yards down the street.

"I knew there was a reason I never left the house anymore," Draco muttered.

Hermione looked sympathetic. She personally didn't want Theodore Nott to stop by and chat. The very thought made her nervous. As he approached, he seemed to notice just who Draco was sitting with. Hermione watched his expression turn sour. She stuck her chin out defiantly, daring him to say anything.

"Draco, I'm surprised to see you out and about," Nott said, his muscles tight.

Draco turned to face him. "I'm full of surprises," he said casually.

Nott glanced briefly at Hermione. "Clearly."

Hermione glared at him, but said nothing. This wasn't her business. She sensed some strange power struggle going on between the two former Slytherins.

"Can I help you with something, Theodore? Or did you simply desire a pleasant chat like our last?"

Nott's expression darkened. Draco was in no mood to deal with him, so he decided to irritate him as much as possible.

"I merely wanted to say hello to an old _friend_. But I can see you have…company." He shot a disdainful glance at Hermione. "I should be going."

"Pity you couldn't join us for an ice cream," Draco said, taking an obnoxiously large bite of his sundae. "_Mmm_."

Nott looked livid, but managed to keep it bottled. Hermione stifled her laughter. Malfoy was clearly trying to see how far he could push Nott. Hermione wasn't sure it was a good idea, but she had to admit it was rather amusing. He cleared his throat.

"Very well. I'll see you, Draco."

"I should hope not," Draco mumbled as Nott stormed off.

"That settles it," Draco sighed. "I'm returning to my life as a shut-in."

"Today just isn't your day," Hermione said with a light laugh. "Perhaps you should choose less conspicuous places to do your shopping."

Draco nodded. "I suppose."

"So you're not…worried…that Nott might be upset with you?"

"Not at all. He's too much of a coward to actually do anything," Draco scoffed. Then his expression turned sly. "You're not worried about me, are you Granger?"

Hermione blushed. She didn't want to admit it, but she found herself concerned. "No…well, perhaps a bit. I don't underestimate people like Nott."

Draco couldn't contain a grin. "Well like I said, nothing to worry about."

Hermione nodded, and tried to push the thought from her mind. They finished their ice creams in silence. When they were done, the sun was going down. It suddenly hit her that she had spent the day with Draco Malfoy, and it had, despite all the run-ins, actually been a _good time_. She then felt inexplicably nervous.

Draco too realized how late it had gotten. "I suppose you ought to get going. Don't want to be late for dinner with the Weasleys."

Hermione considered this statement, trying to find any hint of scorn, but she found no sarcasm in his tone. "I just hope I haven't ruined my appetite by eating ice cream before dinner."

Draco laughed, and they stood up from the table. They walked to the end of the street, near the Leakey Cauldron, saying very little. Draco felt overcome with a strange feeling—he didn't want Granger to leave. This revelation shook him, but he did not express it.

"Well, I'll see you in class Monday, then," Hermione said.

"Right. See you then," Draco replied, quite suddenly wishing that it were already Monday.

Hermione smiled, then Apparated out of sight a moment later. Draco stood for a few moments on the street of Diagon Alley, not moving. Though his mind was racing. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, but he knew that some part of him was beginning to feel attached to Granger, and he didn't know if he liked it or not. Shaking his head, Draco prepared to Apparate.

Before he did so, he decided he'd much rather take a spin on his new broom. He tore off the brown paper and shoved it into the nearest waste bin. To be safe, Draco cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself, and shivered as the spell crept coldly over his body. His hands shaking with excitement, Draco hopped onto the Firebolt 2.0, and sped off into the cool evening air.


	7. I Will Rescue You

**A/N:** Thanks for the wonderful reviews! You guys are the best. :)

uniquegrl7—I was wondering if anyone had noticed the fact about the names. The turning point is approaching. ;)

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

I Will Rescue You

Chilly September quickly gave way to blustery October, and Halloween was fast approaching. Shops and homes in the wizarding world were bedecked with festive decorations, even the lobby of St. Mungos. A string of singing jack-o-lanterns circled the room, to both the amusement and annoyance of patients and staff alike. Hermione found them charming, save for one officious jack-o-lantern who regularly assured her that lime-green was _not _her color.

The month had gone by quickly for Hermione; there was an increased workload for Healer training, in addition to the start of practical rounds. Hermione very much enjoyed these, gaining the experience of actually working with Healers. As a new Trainee, she didn't get to do much in the way of working with patients. Her and her classmates were confined to mostly running errands, restocking, and bringing the Senior Healers Pepperup Potions. She didn't mind so much; she knew it was just one of the stepping stones on her way to being a Healer. Unfortunately, the increased work had left her with precious little time to see her friends. She'd only been to the Burrow once, and was lucky if she saw Harry, Ron, and Ginny once a week.

And then there was Malfoy. Since their day in Diagon Alley, Hermione and Draco hadn't seen each other outside of school. Hermione had to admit she was a little disappointed. She still saw Malfoy daily during the week, but she thought they had made real progress having spent the day together. Yet he still seemed reluctant to completely be friends. Sure they had lunches together and chatted almost effortlessly, but Hermione could still tell he was holding back. She attributed that mostly to one afternoon where the conversation had taken a turn Malfoy wasn't prepared to handle.

"_I reckon they'll be putting up the Halloween decorations soon," Hermione said excitedly._

_Draco rolled his eyes. He wasn't much a fan of holiday festivities. _

"_Oh, don't be such a grouch!" Hermione said. "Halloween here is so much more exciting than in the Muggle world. Though I do miss trick-or-treating."_

"_Trick-or-whating?" Draco responded. "Oh, that silly Muggle tradition where children dress up and beg for candy?"_

"_Well, yes, but you make it sound ridiculous. It was a lot of fun when I was young."_

"_You can beg me for candy and I might oblige you. But you have to dress up as a Slytherin," Draco teased._

"_Fat chance," Hermione said. "Do you at least enjoy Christmas? You can't be that much of a Scrooge."_

_Before Draco could wonder what a "Scrooge" was, Hermione explained that it was a famous Muggle story about a grumpy old man who hated Christmas. He made a mental note to pick up a copy._

"_It's all right, I suppose," Draco said casually. Truthfully, he had really only enjoyed Christmas when he was younger and still a spoiled brat. He got loads of presents that now seemed like a superficial reason to enjoy a holiday._

"_Just all right?" Hermione seemed indignant, and Draco smiled at her apparent enthusiasm. _

"_Well what's so great about it, then?" _

"_Just—all of it, really. The food, the decorations, the songs. My parents and I always do something special, just the three of us. I look forward to it every year. Your family must do something nice—" Hermione stopped, suddenly realizing just who she was talking to, and the fact that basically his entire family was in prison. Her face burned red. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"_

"_It's ok." Draco couldn't pretend that didn't sting just a bit. He knew Hermione hadn't been thinking about what she was saying, and that she didn't mean to bring up the one subject that remained unspoken between them. _

_Hermione felt awful. She could tell that Malfoy was caught off guard by the mention of his family. "Really, I—"_

"_Granger, don't worry about it," Draco said sharply. _

_Hermione bit her lip and looked down. Draco immediately felt bad, and sighed._

"_I didn't mean to snap at you, it's just…well, likely I'll be visiting my parents in Azkaban for Christmas, just like the past two years. Though I suppose it's better than the year Voldemort was around for the holidays."_

_Draco shuddered to recall those many months his own home was used as a base for Lord Voldemort's operations. He had never hated Malfoy Manor more than that period. Though now living there alone came a close second. _

_They both took refuge in their lunches after that, avoiding eye contact with one another. Hermione was afraid to see the chillingly cold look in his eyes, and Draco was afraid to see the hurt and concern in hers._

Hermione had found their conversations strained for a few days after that, but luckily things had returned to normal after long. Now she was more cautious not to slip up in such a way again.

The fall semester seemed to be progressing swiftly, and Draco could hardly believe it was already November. Draco was becoming increasingly interested in Healing as he learned more. There was a whole fascinating world of diseases and cures that he had never imagined, even when he started the program. His only real complaint was that he didn't actually get to do much during his rounds. The more experience Trainees and the Healers did all the real work. Draco slightly resented that he was basically seen as an errand-boy until he had more training under his belt.

Draco could tell Granger was beginning to get frustrated with him. Ever since she had accidentally brought up his parents, Draco had shut up like a clam. He hadn't really even meant to, but the fact that he had spoken to her about his parents shook him. It took him several nights tossing around in bed to admit that he was afraid to getting too close to her. He didn't want to end up disappointed when she decided that he wasn't worth being friends with and stopped talking to him entirely. Then he'd be forced to crawl back to Pansy if only for the sake of his sanity—having Gertie as his only companion had worn thin.

Since that realization, Draco had tried not to be so cold. But he still couldn't stop himself from holding part of himself back.

Draco slid into his seat. Healer Blarney hadn't started class yet, and people were chatting amongst themselves. It wasn't until then that Draco realized the rest of the class no longer glared at him, and rarely even looked his way. He supposed he preferred being ignored to being openly gawked at. He couldn't help but think that his friendship with Granger had helped a little.

She was talking with Chambers, but as she turned to adjust her bag on the back of her seat, realized Draco was there and smiled before returning to her conversation. Draco felt something flutter uncomfortably in his stomach. He was glad Granger had turned away, because a look of confusion flashed unbidden across his features. Draco gave his stomach a punch, and focused on the words Healer Blarney had begun magicking onto the board.

Before long, Draco found himself bored. Every now and then it happened that Healer Blarney gave a rather dull lecture. He started to doze off, and had to work hard to keep his eyes from shutting. Draco had rounds later that evening, and decided to make a list of what he would do that night in order to keep his mind occupied. Even that failed to do the trick, so Draco pulled out a spare bit of parchment and began scribbling a note.

In the middle of Healer Blarney's lecture, Hermione felt something brush against her hand. She looked down, and saw a small folded piece of parchment. She looked back quickly, and saw Malfoy pushing his wand up into his sleeve, with a suspiciously innocent look on his face. When Healer Blarney wasn't looking, Hermione unfolded the note, which contained a few lines of Malfoy's neat handwriting.

_If you teach me how to stay awake during these lectures, I'll make you a better flier than Potter. _

_Do you have rounds tonight? I don't want to be stuck with one of these bloody idiots. Especially Chambers…_

Hermione stifled a laugh and shot Malfoy a scolding look over her shoulder. He should know better than to pass notes during class. But she figured she might as well respond, otherwise he would probably just write another one. She casually slipped her wand into her hand and up her sleeve like Malfoy had done. She wiped the piece of paper clean with a silent spell, and then caused her reply to appear instantly. Edwin glanced over at her curiously, but she quickly folded the parchment. She sent it zipping back to Malfoy before Healer Blarney looked over at their side of the classroom.

_You should be paying attention! The day I can fly better than Harry is the day you behave yourself through an entire class period._

_No I don't have rounds. Regrettably, you'll have to suffer with one of the others. In fact, I think I remember Edwin saying Friday was his night…Enjoy!_

Draco grinned. He was slightly disappointed that Granger wouldn't be on rounds with him. It was much more enjoyable when he had her to talk with, and laugh about whatever Senior Healer was on duty (even though she pretended to take offense to disparaging their superiors). Draco supposed he could ignore whatever Trainee he was working with; there was no real need for them to ever work together, normally. He shoved the note into the pocket of his robes, and spent the remainder of the lecture planning how to stay awake after lunch.

*****

Draco yawned. He was an hour into his shift, and it had already been exceedingly dull. None of the Healers had required much help, or even anything to drink, thus far. Draco had brought a patient whose nose was constantly oozing a thick, purple sludge a box of tissues, but other than that had nothing to do. He strolled the halls, hearing no sound but the thudding of his boots on the floor.

Unwittingly, Draco found his mind wandering to Granger, and what she might be doing on a Friday night. He pictured her out with Potter and Weasley, and an irrational pang of jealously struck at his stomach. _What is wrong with me?_ Draco thought angrily. He wasn't sure he wanted to be in a world in which he was jealous of Weasley. _Then again_, he thought, _Weasley does actually have friends. _Draco reminded himself that Granger was his friend now, even if they weren't as close as her and the Dynamic Duo. He doubted Weasley even knew about the friendship. Once he did find out, he was sure to throw a fit. Draco could picture it now—Weasley's face redder than his hair, screaming unintelligibly. Though for Granger's sake, he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

"Malfoy!"

Draco snapped out of his thoughts and turned. The other Trainee on duty, Jeremy Price, was walking down the hall towards him. Draco waited for him to approach.

"Yes?" Draco asked disinterestedly once Price had closed the distance between them.

"Where have you been?"

"Patrolling. Where do you think?"

Price looked annoyed, but didn't say so. "Well, Healer Collins needs a Pepperup Potion."

"And?"

"And I thought you could bring it to him. He's in the Dai Lewellyn ward."

Draco scoffed. "Why couldn't you do it, seeing how you were the one he asked?"

Price looked uncomfortable, and Draco noticed the tops of his ears turning red. "Well, uh, the thing is…"

A malicious smirk formed on Draco's lips. "Store cupboard out of stock?"

Price nodded.

"And you don't know how to brew one yourself, do you?"

Price shook his head.

Draco chuckled. He couldn't wait to tell Granger that at least this classmate truly _was _an idiot. "Tell you what. I'll do that for you, on one condition."

Price's face brightened. "What's the condition?"

"You leave me alone for the rest of the shift."

Price frowned, but agreed. He thanked Draco, then took off down the hallway. Draco laughed to himself, shaking his head. He went to one of the labs he knew to have extra stores of Pepperup Potion. _If only Price had taken the time to explore, he'd know where all the stashes are._ Draco grabbed a bottle and stuffed it into his robes. He walked leisurely to the Dai Lewellyn ward, savoring the fact that Price wouldn't be bothering him for the rest of the night. Draco briefly wondered whether or not it would behoove him to try and make friends with the boy instead, but he quickly dismissed the idea. _One new friend at a time, Draco. Let's not get ahead of ourselves. _

Draco found Healer Collins without much trouble. All he had to do was follow the moaning of a patient who'd recently been bitten by a werewolf. Draco entered the room, recalling unpleasant memories of Fenrir Greyback. He quickly handed off the potion, and left with a gruff thanks from Healer Collins. Draco strode away from the Dai Lewellyn ward as quickly as possible. If there was any aspect of Healing he was squeamish about, it was the strange things that could happen when bitten by a dangerous creature. He didn't want to think about what it would be like to have snake venom coursing through his veins, or to transform into a vicious werewolf. If he was thankful for anything in the world, it was that both Nagini and Fenrir were out of his life for good.

Draco walked the corridors aimlessly, once again finding nothing to do. His thoughts wandered just as aimlessly, jumping from one thing to the next. Quite suddenly, there was a _pop! _and Gertie appeared out of nowhere. Draco had to do a double take, utterly perplexed as to why his house-elf was currently blocking his path down the hospital hallway.

"Uh—Gerie?" was all Draco managed to ask.

Gertie bowed low. "Master Draco, this just arrived for you."

She held out a letter that Draco hadn't noticed her holding before. "A letter? At this hour?"

Gertie nodded. "It's from Azkaban prison, sir."

Draco frowned curiously, then took the letter and turned it over, noting the seal was in fact from Azkaban.

"Thank you Gertie, you may go," Draco said absently as he broke the seal.

Gertie nodded, and vanished instantly. Draco unfolded the parchment and began to read.

**Mr. Malfoy,**

**We regret to inform you that your father, Lucius Malfoy, passed away this evening.**

Draco's heart skipped a beat. What? It couldn't be…that couldn't be what it said….Draco read and reread the first line until it sunk in. Dead. Lucius Malfoy, gone. Forever. Draco had just seen him a month ago. How could this have happened? He didn't understand…

"_Dead_?" Draco whispered.

He sank to the floor, shock overwhelming him. He couldn't think. He couldn't breathe. His father…dead. He truly was the last of the Malfoy line now. The head of the house. Even while his father was in prison, Draco still thought of him as the patriarch of his family. Now that burden lay on Draco, even though he no longer had a family.

With shaking hands, Draco lifted the letter to his face and read the rest of it.

**He fell ill and was unable to recover in his weakened state. **

**You have three days in which to collect his persons and make arrangements, or else we will dispose of him as we see fit.**

**Sorry for your loss.**

**_Tristam Skulnick_**

**Director of Operations, Azkaban Prison**

Draco wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Ill? He hadn't been ill a month ago. His mother had been the sickly one. It made no sense. And what of his mother? What must she be going through. Tears stung his eyes at the thought of his mother, sobbing alone in Azkaban, no one caring for her pain. And "dispose" of him? Was his father a mere piece of garbage to be dumped into the ocean? He felt a surge of hatred for this Tristam Skulnick, and suddenly desired to pop his head like a balloon.

Hatred was quickly replaced by a rush of emotions Draco couldn't begin to handle. More tears flowed from his eyes as he couldn't reconcile immense grief with a feeling of relief and the guilt that came with it. He felt like he would be wrenched apart by the conflicting hatred and love he felt for his father. His stomach was in knots. Was it all right to recall his dead father with feelings of hate in his heart?

Draco didn't even realize getting up, but he was now staggering down the hallway, choking back a sob. He threw open the nearest door, and found himself in an empty room that had a few chairs and a cabinet. He slammed the door shut, and crumpled to the ground. His body was wracked with dry heaves. After a few minutes, the urge to vomit subsided. Draco was on his hands and knees, breathing heavily, his hair falling loosely in front of his face.

He rolled onto his back, taking deep breaths, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating. He buried his face in his hands, unable to keep tears from streaming down his cheeks.

_Why am I crying? I hated him. I hate him still, even though he's dead. But he is—was—my father…_

Draco yelled in frustration and punched the floor, which he regretted immediately. His knuckles bruised instantly; Draco swore loudly. He got up and went over to the cabinet, pulling the door open. Inside were several dusty old bottles of Pepperup Potion. Draco pulled out his wand, muttered a few words, and Transfigured the bottles into Ogden's Old Firewhisky. He didn't bother to conjure up a glass, but instead grab the closest bottle and pulled out the stopper.

"Here's to you, father."

Draco drank deeply from the bottle, and sank down to the floor once again.

*****

Hermione gasped audibly when she looked up at the clock and realized how late it was. She was sitting in the St. Mungo's library, surrounded by several large volumes of medical literature. Somehow, the hours had flown by without her even realizing it. The librarian, obviously used to late-night studiers, hadn't seen fit to throw her out. Hermione began the process of returning all the books to their proper places. A quarter of an hour later when that was finished, she gathered her things and headed into the hospital proper.

Malfoy was on rounds, so Hermione figured she would find him and say hello before she went home. She had no idea where he would be; he liked to wander. She settled on going to the Trainee lounge where she though she had a good chance of finding the other student on duty.

As luck would have it, Jeremy Price was indeed sitting in the lounge, working on what looked like their next paper. He glanced up when Hermione entered.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm looking for Malfoy, actually. Have you seen him?"

"Not for a couple hours."

"Well, where did you see him a couple hours ago?" Hermione asked.

"Last I knew he was in the Dai Lewellyn Ward bringing a potion to Healer Collins. I don't reckon he's still there, though."

"Thanks," Hermione said, although Jeremy hadn't been much help. _Rather thick, _Hermione thought sardonically, musing that Malfoy must be rubbing off on her. She bid Jeremy goodnight and set off toward the Dai Lewellyn Ward, in hopes that she would at least pass Malfoy in the hall, and not have to check every room for him. As she passed a row of rooms she knew to be unoccupied, Hermione heard a loud crash that sounded like glass shattering. Intrigued, she followed the source of the sound to a door near the end of the hallway. Before she reached to turn the knob, another crash sounded. Hermione gripped her wand, unsure of what she was going to find. She turned the knob and pushed the door open, thrusting her wand in front of her.

She had found Malfoy.

He was slumped over, leaning against a chair, a half drunk bottle in his hand. Several empty bottles surrounded him, and Hermione noted the glass shards that indicated he had just smashed a few of them. She quickly shut the door, and placed a Silencing Charm on the room. She didn't know what was going on, but she certainly didn't want Healer Collins to come in and end up expelling Malfoy from the program. By the looks of it, he didn't know what was going on either. He hadn't even noticed her come in.

"Draco?" Hermione called tentatively. Somehow, she felt the situation too delicate _not _to use his first name. They'd never spoken of it, but Hermione obviously realized that they only referred to each other by last name. She supposed it was that last vestige of their former loathing of one another.

Draco jerked his head up. The room swam in his vision. The hand he had punched the floor with was throbbing, but he was only distantly aware. Where had that voice come from? He looked towards the door, and tried to focus his gaze. It took him a moment before he realized who it was.

"What did you call me?" Draco slurred.

Hermione took a few steps closer. Draco was obviously drunk. She didn't understand why he would have done such a thing. "Draco. Your name."

"Oh, right. Well in that case—hic—_Hermione_, what're you doing here?"

Hermione folded her arms across her chest. "I think the better question is what are _you_ doing here?"

Draco struggled to his feet, accidentally dropping the bottle and sending a shower of Firewhisky across the floor. He stumbled over to the cupboard, grabbed the letter from Azkaban and thrust it at Hermione. He didn't have the strength to tell her; he was afraid he might start crying. And his inebriated mind told him that it was a bad idea to let Hermione see him cry.

Hermione took the letter curiously. As soon as she read its contents, she clapped a hand to her mouth in shock. She looked up at Draco, who was peering at her intently. His eyes were red and puffy—clearly he'd been crying. She felt an overwhelming surge of pity. For that moment, it wasn't malicious Death Eater Lucius Malfoy who was dead; it was Draco's father.

"Oh Draco, I'm so sorry," Hermione said sincerely.

Draco scoffed. "I'm sure you're glad to hear the world is rid of Lucius Malfoy. Death Eater scum." He snatched the letter out of Hermione's hand, crumpled it up, and threw it on the floor. He stumbled back to the cupboard and took out a fresh bottle of Firewhisky. He pulled the stopper and took a swig.

Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself that it wouldn't help to argue with Draco in this state. "No, I truly am sorry you've lost your father."

Draco didn't believe it, but said nothing. He took another drink of Firewhisky, relishing the burn in his throat.

Hermione marched over to him and pulled the bottle from his hands. She wouldn't see Draco drink himself to death. Judging by the amount of bottles on the floor, he was getting close.

"Hey!" Draco yelled, making a pathetic attempt to grab the bottle. This only caused him to lose his balance, and he swayed dangerously on the spot.

Hermione vanished the contents of the bottle then set it aside. She guided Draco over to a chair and sat him down. It wouldn't do for him to fall and crack his skull on the floor. He leaned forward, putting his face in his hands. Hermione thought he might throw up.

But Draco was trying to keep more tears from leaking out. It was a futile endeavor; he was too emotionally unstable and drunk to be able to control himself at all. The effort of keeping himself from crying was making his throat hurt. Finally he decided that it didn't matter, and let himself go.

Hermione was stunned. She didn't know if she should comfort him, or just let him cry. It was disarming to see the normally cool, emotionless Draco Malfoy bent over and sobbing. She placed her hand lightly on his back.

Draco looked up at Hermione's touch. He had moved his head too sharply, causing him to be dizzy for a moment and fall against the back of the chair. Hermione pulled her hand back. Draco regained his composure, or so he thought, and tried to sit up straight. Hermione was looking at him, sympathy and sadness in her round, brown eyes. He knew in that moment she was sincere.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Draco blurted out.

Hermione looked into his eyes, glistening silver under the sheen of tears. "Well, we're friends aren't we? Friends help each other when they need it."

"You…you shouldn't be my friend."

Hermione frowned. "Why not?"

"You have a million reasons to hate me. I was so, so cruel to you. So cruel…" Draco choked back more tears. He felt awful in that moment, realizing that he was a terrible person who didn't deserve the friendship of someone as wonderful as Hermione Granger.

Hermione bit her lip. She didn't know where this drunken confession would lead. Of course Draco had been cruel to her, but she didn't want to make him feel worse than he already did at the death of his father.

"Yes, but you're different now. You aren't that cruel boy anymore."

"How do you know?" Draco snapped, suddenly angry. "How do you know I'm not the same miserable prick I used to be?"

Hermione refused to let his temper upset her. She knew it was the Firewhisky talking. "I can tell. You haven't been the same since sixth year. Even then you were starting to change. Don't think I didn't notice."

Draco's anger cooled. Hermione was right. "But still…how can you even feel bad for me? My father has tried to kill you before. You've been tortured in my very home."

Hermione winced at these uncomfortable truths. Honestly, she tried not to think about those times. She knew that Draco himself wasn't actually a part of them. "_You_ didn't do those things to me, Draco."

She was right again, but Draco couldn't help but feel responsible. He had been a part of it all. He had let Death Eaters into the school. She had been a prisoner in his home. It was all too much. She should never forgive him.

His head was spinning and he didn't know how to express himself anymore. He looked at Hermione, and felt irrationally angry that she was being so understanding. Suddenly, he ripped back the left sleeve of his robes. Draco thrust his forearm towards Hermione, the Dark Mark still burned into his flesh. Now, there was an angry red scar slashed across it. Hermione gasped.

"You see this," Draco growled. "I was a Death Eater. I took the Mark. I tried to kill Dumbledore. I let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. You could have died because of me! This will _never_ go away!" He pointed at the red scar. "I tried to get rid of it, but Voldemort was a powerful wizard."

Draco recalled that fateful day that he had tried to get rid of his Dark Mark using any spell he could think of. Nothing worked. And he was rewarded for his efforts with a scar that still throbbed with pain from time to time. Voldemort was long dead, but Draco still bore a constant reminder of the fact that he had once been very much alive (if you could call it that).

Hermione felt tears stinging her eyes. She didn't know what to say. She looked at Draco's scar with a mixture of pity and revulsion. He had been through so much that she couldn't even contemplate.

Draco, despite the haze of alcohol, still recognized this look in Hermione's eyes. "Don't pity me. Don't you dare. There's nothing you can do, and feeling sorry for me won't help any."

Draco slid his sleeve back down, abruptly becoming embarrassed that he had shown Hermione his Mark.

"Draco, you don't have to be so closed off. You're going to explode if you keep everything in. I don't know how you've done it these past few years," Hermione said.

"You're looking at it," Draco slurred, gesturing to the mess of bottles around the room. He desired another drink, and tried to stand up in order to fetch one, but his legs betrayed him. They wobbled as he tried to stand and he collapsed back into the chair. Draco mumbled incoherently, then looked up at Hermione once again. She still looked concerned. Draco was mystified that she would actually care. He suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to apologize for every wrong he'd ever committed.

"I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione wasn't sure what to say, or what he was referring to exactly. "It's all right," she said.

Draco shook his head fiercely. "No!" he shouted. "I mean, no, it's not all right," he continued, amending his harsh tone. "I want to apologize. For everything. I know it doesn't really make up for all the names I called you and the mean things I did to you, but I'm sorry all the same. I don't think I could ever make up for it all…"

"I accept your apology," Hermione said softly. It was true she might never forget some of the more hurtful exchanges between Draco and herself, but that he was apologizing and meant it counted for something.

Draco managed a weak smile. A wave of nausea washed over him and he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes.

Hermione was concerned. Draco seemed to have a rather serious drinking problem. She hoped, though she wasn't convinced, that tonight was an exception, rather than the rule. But now was not the time to bring it up. Draco looked near to passing out, and Hermione thought it would be best to get him to bed. She was afraid to leave him alone, so she decided that he would just have to stay on her couch.

"Come on, Draco. Let's get you out of here."

Draco opened his eyes with great effort. He nodded sluggishly. He wasn't entirely sure how he'd make it home, or even out of this room, but he trusted that Hermione could figure it out. She was painfully clever. And very pretty.

_Wait…what? _Draco thought. His clouded mind was difficult to focus. He forgot thinking it nearly a moment after he'd done so. He slumped down further in the chair. Firewhisky-induced fatigue was washing over him.

Hermione realized that Draco was going to be out cold in a matter of minutes. She quickly performed a cleaning charm to put the room back in its proper state, and eliminating all evidence that a drunken Draco had ever been there. She stood in front of Draco, wondering how she was going to get him safely out of the building. Hermione settled on using a lightening spell to make his weight manageable, then cast "Locomotor Corpus."

Draco was floating in the air, which was a rather strange feeling given there was no visible cause for it. In his intoxicated state, the sensation was jarring. He tried to relax, but it was difficult.

"Hermione—what--?"

"Don't worry," Hermione replied soothingly. "I'll take care of you."

Draco felt relieved at her words. Hermione's warm smile was the last thing he saw before his eyes closed and the world faded to black.


	8. Rifts and Reconciliations

**A/N: **I'm sorry this update took so long! I try to update weekly, but I had a ton of work come up at school all at once. I'm glad you all liked the last chapter so much, thanks for reviewing. :)

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Rifts and Reconciliations

Light streaming through a crack in the curtains settled on the pale face of a sleeping Draco Malfoy. Though he did not remain asleep for long—he rolled over sluggishly, trying to avoid the glare, but it was too late. He wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep now that he had awoken. He opened his eyes slowly, finding it more difficult than usual. It took him a few blinks to gain full use of his vision.

Draco's first thought was that he had somehow sleepwalked and fallen asleep in a library. Upon closer inspection, he realized he was in a living room. A former Gryffindor's living room, by the looks of the red and gold banner on the wall. There were books, numerous shelves full of books. That's when the events of the previous night came rushing back into his memory.

_Merlin, I'm in Granger's living room…_

Draco groaned and sat up. He immediately regretted the decision. A monstrous headache pounded at the walls of his skull. He pressed on his temples, wishing that he had never laid eyes on a bottle of Firewhisky in his life. That's when he remembered the impetus for the heavy drinking of the night before.

It was still almost impossible for Draco to fathom that his father was dead. He felt a pang in his stomach at the thought, but it seemed he had emptied his body of tears last night. Now, the responsibility of burying his father weighed on his mind. Draco sighed, knowing he would have to go to Azkaban once again.

He looked around and noted that his lime-green robes were folded neatly on a nearby chair, his shoes resting underneath. Glancing down at himself, Draco realized for the first time that he was in only his slacks and white button-down shirt.

"Oh, you're up," Hermione said as she entered the room.

She had peeked in on Draco earlier in the morning, mostly to make sure he hadn't choked on his own vomit sometime during the night. Luckily, he had not. She watched him for a few moments, his chest rising and falling lightly. He looked so peaceful, the control he usually exerted over his expressions absent. He looked—dare she even think it?—_handsome_. She scolded herself for staring, and went back into the kitchen.

Now, she returned with a teacup and saucer in her hand.

"I suppose you could call it that," Draco answered groggily. "I see you decided to strip me. Taking advantage of my fragile state, eh?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but did not reply. "Here," she said instead, offering Draco the steaming cup in her hand. "Drink this, it will make you feel better."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "What is it?" he questioned, taking the cup from her with hesitation.

"Just a little potion I whipped up," Hermione said casually.

Draco sniffed it, and then took a small sip. "Blech! That is the foulest thing I've ever tasted!" he exclaimed.

Hermione laughed at the ridiculous face Draco was making. "Oh don't be such a baby! Just drink it all, and I promise you'll thank me."

Draco grimaced, eyed the cup for a moment, and then swallowed it in one miserable gulp. It tasted like a combination of burnt hair, rotten eggs, and peppermint. It took him a moment to discover that during his contemplation of all the things he'd _rather _drink than that dreadful potion, his headache had disappeared and he felt significantly more vibrant.

Hermione watched with a satisfied smirk as realization dawned on Draco's face.

"Told you," she said simply.

"Fancy that, Hermione Granger was right about something. Who'd have guessed?" Draco said sarcastically, setting the teacup and saucer on the coffee table.

"Well, I did best you in Potions each year, after all."

"Yes, thanks for reminding me," Draco grumbled. "My father always scolded me for letting you beat me in all our classes."

Hermione didn't reply, feeling awkward and unsure about what to say, and Draco realized that he'd spoken of his father without meaning to. He looked down, feeling another pang at remembering, once again, that Lucius was dead. He wondered when he would be used to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hermione asked.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know what there is to say."

Hermione took a seat next to Draco on the couch. "Well, I mean, you must be feeling…something. It might help to talk about it."

Draco had never had anyone encourage him to talk about what he was feeling. This was new, and he didn't know how to respond. He instinctively felt that he should close himself off and put up a guard.

"No, no it's all right."

"You can't possibly be all right," Hermione pushed.

"I'm fine," Draco said tersely.

Hermione was getting frustrated. She didn't want Draco to bottle his feelings up, lest he end up on another floor surrounded by bottles and glass shards. "Draco, I know how you must be feeling—"

Draco's eyes flashed dangerously. "No, no you don't know how I'm feeling. Do you know what it feels like to love and hate someone fiercely, at the same time? Do you know what it feels like to be _glad _that your father is dead? Do you know what the guilt of such a thing feels like? No, I don't think so."

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but found that she had nothing to say. Draco stood up quickly.

"I have to go. There are matters I must attend to," he said.

"You don't have to go, I'm sorry—"

"Thank you for your hospitality," Draco said stiffly. He went and pulled on his shoes, grabbed his robes, and left without another word.

Hermione felt tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, but she didn't let herself cry. She knew Draco was having a hard time, but she didn't think it was right for him to run rather than confront his issues. Instead of being upset, she busied herself with tidying up the blankets she had set out for Draco. She found that she couldn't even focus on that, and threw them onto the ground with an angry grunt.

Draco stormed down the hallway, using his anger to keep himself from feeling bad for snapping at Hermione. She had no business trying to pry into his feelings. Just because she'd single-handedly rescued him from a potentially horrifying moment waking up on a cold floor in a pile of broken glass… He shook his head; allowing himself to feel bad would only end in his turning around and apologizing like a sniveling baby. There was no time for that.

When Draco got outside, he realized that he had no idea where he was. It appeared Hermione lived in Muggle London. Draco looked down the street. Much to his dismay, he saw Ron Weasley walking in his direction. He groaned loudly, cursing his horrid luck.

"Malfoy!" Weasley shouted when he was still about ten feet away.

"Weasley," Draco replied disinterestedly.

"What are _you _doing here?" Weasley demanded, his face growing redder by the moment.

"Fancied a stroll," Draco said casually.

Weasley looked furious. For a moment, Draco was afraid he was going to pull out his wand in broad daylight in Muggle London. "What are you doing with Hermione?" he growled.

"Nothing," Draco answered. "School stuff."

"On a Saturday morning? Come off it."

Draco breathed a noisy sigh. "Healers work late, Weasley. Not that you'd know anything about…well..._anything._"

Weasley was seething, but Draco couldn't help needling him. It was far too entertaining seeing how far he could push him. Draco suspected it wasn't very far at all. Weasley was probably dying for a reason to hit him. Draco was pretty confident he could best Weasley in a fight, and positive he could do so in a wizard's duel.

"That still doesn't explain why you're here, at her house."

"What's it to you anyway?" Draco asked, evading the question. "It's not like you're dating her.

Weasley's eyes narrowed. "I'm still her best friend. And when I see a slimy git like you walking out of her building I want to know why."

Draco scoffed. "Like I said Weasley, school stuff. Are you thick?"

Draco suddenly found his back pressed against the building, Weasley's fist balled around the front of his shirt.

"You better watch it Malfoy," Weasley hissed. "I don't know what you're up to, but I'm going to find out."

Draco kept his face impassive, but his eyes flashed dangerously. He slid his wand out of his pocket and into his hand, bringing it right up under Weasley's chin.

"Let go," Draco said calmly. "Or else you're going to find yourself removed of your face."

Weasley, his face twisted with rage, finally let go and backed up a step.

"That's better," Draco said slowly, as if speaking to a child.

"Shove off!" Weasley roared.

Draco had just about enough fun at Weasley's expense. He also wanted to avoid an all-out brawl in the middle of a Muggle street.

"Good day then, Weasley. Tell Hermione I said thanks for last night. She'll know what I mean." Draco made sure to sound as suggestive as possible.

Weasley swore loudly, threw the door open, and stormed inside. Draco chuckled to himself; taking out his frustrations on Weasley had given him a temporary satisfaction. He forgot about being mean to Hermione and his onerous task at hand, if only for a moment. Turning his thoughts toward Azkaban, Draco checked the street, then Apparated away.

*****

Hermione was sipping a cup of tea, noting how it failed to calm her down, when she heard a series of rapid knocks on her door. A small smile crept onto her mouth. She had hoped Draco would return and apologize. Her stomach fluttered as she got up from the kitchen table.

"Come back to say sorry, have you?" Hermione called as she crossed the living room. She pulled the door open, and felt her stomach plummet when she saw who was there.

"Expecting someone else?" Ron said angrily.

Hermione swallowed and tried to collect her scrambling thoughts. "Ron! What a surprise. What brings you by?" she said cheerfully, trying to avoid the question.

Ron didn't buy it. "Well I was coming to see if you wanted to drop by the Burrow with me, but it seems you're too busy shagging Malfoy!"

"Ron Weasley!" Hermione exclaimed. She grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into her apartment, shutting the door behind him. She pointed her index finger at his face. "How dare you? I am not _shagging Malfoy_, you dolt!"

"Then what the bloody hell was he doing leaving your apartment, looking all…mussed?" Hermione detected a hint of uncertainty in Ron's voice. She knew that he was afraid of her answer.

"He slept on my couch last night," Hermione replied, deciding that the truth would serve her best here.

Ron's hands balled into fists. He seemed to be trying to control his temper. Hermione was grateful for that, at least. "And why was he sleeping on your couch?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

Hermione sighed. "He was too drunk to be left alone."

"Were you out _drinking_ with Malfoy?" Ron nearly screamed.

Hermione groaned. "Let me finish! I was _not _out drinking with Malfoy. He got drunk on his rounds and I found him. He was in no state to be by himself, so I brought him here."

Ron scoffed. "And why would Malfoy get drunk at St. Mungo's?" he asked incredulously.

"Lucius Malfoy died in Azkaban two nights ago," Hermione said simply. She figured Ron would find out eventually. It was sure to be in the paper. It was only a matter of time before the whole wizarding world knew.

Ron's angry countenance faltered only momentarily. "Well, good. World's better off without an evil bastard like that. Doesn't seem like a reason to get all depressed and drunk."

"I know we have no love for Lucius Malfoy, but he was Draco's father after all," Hermione tried to explain.

"Oh so it's _Draco_ now, is it?"

Hermione wanted to smack herself. She had been trying to make sure she referred to Draco purely as Malfoy, because she knew Ron would pick up on it. There was really no way out of it now. Though she found no reason to divulge the full detail of her and Draco's burgeoning friendship.

"We're in the same class all week, Ron. We're partners. It comes natural to start referring to one another on a first name basis," Hermione said smoothly. She thought it sounded convincing. It wasn't entirely untrue, after all.

Ron seemed satisfied with this explanation, but there was still a hint of anger in his expression. He sat down on the couch, his shoulders slumping slightly. Hermione sat on a chair opposite him, hoping that he was calmed down now.

"So…" Ron began. "You're, uh, _not_ shagging Malfoy, then?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "No, Ron, I'm not." She found it almost laughable that it was what Ron was most worried about. Draco could have been here cursing her to oblivion and Ron wouldn't care as much so long as there was nothing _going on_ between them.

"Good," Ron said shortly. "Er—so when you thought it was him at the door, why did you ask if he'd come to say sorry?"

Hermione cursed Ron's astuteness that seemed to have sprung up over night. She chalked it up to being a side effect of the Auror training. "Oh, that. He was short with me before he left, that's all."

"What a prat," Ron said instantly.

"Well, I mean his father's just died. I reckon he's not in a right state of mind."

"Yeah, the right state of mind to pull his wand out at me in the middle of broad daylight," Ron muttered darkly.

"I expect you did nothing to deserve that?"

Ron looked as if he was about to protest, but thought better of it. They sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes. Hermione could tell he was still suspicious and upset, but he didn't want to say anything. Perhaps Harry's matured attitude had started to rub off on Ron. She could only hope as much. Finally, when the silence had become almost unbearable, Hermione spoke.

"So, what's going on at the Burrow?"

Ron looked up, seemingly grateful to her for breaking the tension. "Nothing much. I'm going over for lunch and thought you'd might like to join. Harry and Ginny will be there, too."

Hermione hadn't seen her friends much, and really wanted to take her mind off of Draco. This would be a good opportunity for that, providing Ron didn't bring it up. She had an inkling that he wouldn't, at least not in front of his parents. Though later when it was just he and Harry at home, she was sure it would come up. She had faith that Harry was bright enough not to let it slip that he knew of Hermione and Draco's friendship.

"Sounds lovely," Hermione answered.

Ron's face brightened for the first time since he'd arrived. "Shall we Floo then?"

Hermione nodded. She grabbed her wand from a nearby table, and the two of them made the dusty trip from Hermione's apartment to the Burrow.

*****

Draco stood rigid and still as stone. He watched his father's coffin being lowered into the ground in the Malfoy family cemetery on the manor's grounds. He clasped his hands tightly behind his back. It took all of his effort not to crumple to the ground under the stress of all the he had endured that day.

After leaving Hermione's and having a row with Weasley, Draco had stopped at home to shower and collect himself. He then headed directly to Azkaban, where Tristam Skulnick gave him a sheaf of papers to sign, relinquishing Lucius' body to him. He briefly visited his mother, unable to console her. When he left she was huddled in the corner of her cell, body shuddering with wracking sobs.

Draco avoided the Ministry of Magic. He knew the vultures would descend soon enough, and that the whole thing would grace the headlines of the _Sunday Prophet_. That's why he decided to perform a private service, with himself as the only attendant.

He'd transfigured a wooden box into an elaborate black coffin, lined with silver filigree and cushioned with silver silk. He lowered his father's wasted body into the box, telling himself that he was merely sleeping in order to complete such a morbid task. He'd kissed his father's cold forehead before shutting the lid.

Draco easily cleared a plot of land and charmed the coffin to lower itself into the ground. When it was finished, he covered the coffin with earth with an easy swish of his wand. He summoned a large stone and silently transformed it into polished black headstone, with the words "Lucius Abraxas Malfoy" carved in the shiny surface.

Draco stood staring at the fresh grave for a time, losing track of the minutes he spent lost in thought. When the sky began to darken, Draco took a last look at his father's grave, then turned and headed inside.

He poured himself a tall glass of scotch and settled into a high-backed armchair in the study. A fire sprang to life in the hearth before him, responding to his presence. Draco stared at the crackling flames, consumed by his dark thoughts. He knew he shouldn't drink himself into a stupor again, but it seemed like the most attractive option. He had Gertie bring him the whole bottle of scotch, and refilled his glass over and over until all thought and worry blended into a comfortable numbness.

*****

Hermione was decidedly nervous as she entered class on Monday morning. Both the _Sunday Prophet_ and this morning's issue had Lucius Malfoy's face plastered across them, with such headlines as "**NOTORIOUS DEATH EATER DIES IN AZKABAN**" or "**LUCIUS MALFOY DIES UNEXPECTEDLY WHILE SERVING LIFE SENTENCE.**" The other students were all whispering amongst themselves, throwing cautious glances over their shoulders. Draco had not yet arrived.

All morning she'd worried about what the other students might say, but now she was worried that Draco might not show up to class at all. When he entered the class a moment later, she realized that it was silly to think Draco Malfoy would let something like that intimidate him.

Draco steeled himself as he entered the classroom. As he expected, all eyes followed him as he took his seat. Even Healer Blarney looked at him curiously. He ignored all of it, not wanting to give anyone the satisfaction of a reaction. If anyone decided to speak to him, he would deal with it in whatever way seemed appropriate. As luck had it, no one spoke.

Hermione turned to look at him. She wanted to say something, but she wasn't sure what to say. She still felt as if Draco owed her a bit of an apology, but she didn't want to press the issue. She searched his face, but he showed no signs of any emotion.

"How are you?" she asked.

"Fine," Draco responded coolly. He guarded himself, still not wanting to discuss this issue.

Hermione frowned. She had hoped things would blow over by the time they got back to class, but it appeared not. Before she could protest, Healer Blarney announced the start of class. She turned away reluctantly.

Draco couldn't pay attention. He felt terrible for being so cold to Hermione, but again, he couldn't bring himself to open up. It felt unnatural to talk about his feelings. He had to suppress a groan when Healer Blarney announced there would be group work today.

As Healer Blarney lectured, Hermione became more heated. She didn't want Draco to shut her out because of this. Briefly she wondered why it bothered her so much, but her thoughts were interrupted by Healer Blarney announcing their group work for the day. Draco couldn't ignore her for long when they were forced to work together, she thought triumphantly.

She found, however, that she was wrong. Draco addressed his few suggestions and ideas directly to Edwin Chambers, who was confused by Draco's sudden change of attitude towards him.

Draco purposely avoided Hermione's gaze, which he could tell was growing more furious by the moment. He could almost feel the heat of it on his head every time she looked his way. When lunch break was called, Draco practically ran out of the room.

Hermione huffed and began gathering her things for lunch.

"Something wrong between you and Malfoy?" Edwin asked her.

"No," Hermione said sharply, making it clear that she was not inviting any questions on the subject.

Edwin took the hint, and kept silent on the walk down to the cafeteria.

"You're welcome to sit with us, you know," he said as he and Hermione passed through the double doors into the cafeteria.

"Thanks, but I have something to attend to," Hermione said crisply, eyeing Draco. He was alone at their usual table.

Hermione didn't bother to grab food. She marched directly over to Draco and stood across from him, her arms crossed.

Draco looked up from his meal to see an irate Hermione glaring down at him. Her eyes were blazing with such ferocity that Draco got butterflies in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to look away, but he found himself magnetized to her dark brown eyes.

"Draco, I simply will _not_ allow you to ignore me," Hermione said, mustering every ounce of authority she could.

"I'm not _ignoring_ you," Draco said.

"Hah! You ran out of my house, and now you're suddenly best mates with Edwin."

"Well, maybe I was ignoring you a little," Draco admitted.

"Knock it off, then!"

Draco had to laugh at that. She sounded so serious, but everything suddenly seemed quite silly to him. He really had been forcing himself to ignore her; it did not come naturally.

Hermione's anger dissipated seeing Draco laugh genuinely. His face was utterly transformed when he smiled. She couldn't suppress a smile, and ended up laughing herself.

"Well, so much for my big, serious speech," Hermione said, sitting down.

"I know what you were going to say," Draco assured her. "And I'm sorry I was such a git."

"I know. I'm sorry that if I was too pushy about…well, you know," Hermione said.

Draco shook his head. "You were just trying to help. And trust me, I'll talk about it when I'm ready."

Hermione nodded. She decided to take him on his word, and not press the issue anymore. That he was talking to her now was enough for the moment. If he'd continued to ignore her, Hermione was unsure what she would have done next.

"Poor Weasley, he would have been jumping for joy if you hated me again. Really, all this was just me trying to make him happy," Draco said, in a mock serious tone.

"Yes, I'm sure. I'll be sure to let him know how concerned you are for his well-being."

"I wish he had actually punched me, then I would have had an excuse to hex him to pieces," Draco said wistfully.

"Draco! That is my best friend you're talking about, after all," Hermione scolded him.

Draco made a face. "I know, but you can't deny that sometimes he's _really _asking for it."

Hermione automatically jumped to protest on Ron's behalf, but found she couldn't really argue with that. She shrugged noncommittally. Draco smirked and returned to his meal for a few moments.

"Let me make it up to you," Draco said after a minute, an idea springing to mind.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And how're you going to do that?" she asked.

"I'll cook dinner for you. In return for your hospitality the other night. And hopefully to make you forget about my attitude problem by dazzling you with my culinary skills."

Draco didn't know what made him think of it, but he found that he was excited at the prospect of cooking a meal for Hermione. No one else knew of his fondness for cooking the Muggle way. He felt like if he shared that with her, then she would forgive him for being so cold on the subject of his father.

Hermione was stunned. First of all, she didn't think that Draco could cook. And second, she had not expected him to offer anything of the sort. But she had to admit that she was intrigued by the prospect.

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said. "Though I wasn't aware you could cook."

"I'm very surprising. Never know what I've got up my sleeve," Draco said. "I thought I'd come to your place. Mine isn't very…inviting." He assumed that she would not want to return to a place where she had been tortured and imprisoned.

Hermione experienced a brief flashback to her torture under the Cruciatus Curse, but shook it away. "Yes, my place would be better," she agreed.

"Wonderful," Draco replied. "Friday, then?"

"That works for me," Hermione said.

Lunch ended all too quickly, and Hermione and Draco walked back to class together (much to Edwin Chambers' dismay). Their group work went much smoother now that the two of them had reconciled. Though Draco couldn't concentrate—he had a strange feeling in his stomach, and found himself smiling more than he thought appropriate for Healer class. He realized that he was quite excited for Friday evening. It unsettled him how he looked forward to spending time with Hermione. He wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but it had been a long time since something or someone had made him feel happy, so he didn't want to kill it with over thinking.

Hermione kept stealing glances at Draco while they worked. He seemed lighter, more carefree than he had been in most of the time she'd known him. It made her want to smile, but she held back, not wanting to look daft. She wondered why she felt so giddy all of a sudden. Deep down, she knew it was because she was looking forward to spending more time with Draco. It boggled her mind how they had become friends, and their animosity at Hogwarts seemed a hazy memory, growing less relevant as each day passed. Another thought struck her then—was their dinner on Friday a _date_?

When class ended and they parted ways, Hermione's trip home was full of thoughts of Draco, and just what the nature of their plans on Friday were. Little did she know, Draco's mind was consumed with precisely the same thing.


	9. Dinner is Served

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Dinner is Served

* * *

Draco Malfoy was many things, and dreadfully nervous was not usually one of them. But as he approached Hermione's apartment building, a swooping sensation hit his stomach and his grocery bag almost went tumbling across the sidewalk due to the sweatiness of his palms.

_Pull yourself together! _He scolded himself. It was just dinner, after all. He'd been agonizing all week over whether or not it was in fact a dinner _date_. He didn't think so, but he wasn't sure. Whether or not Hermione thought so was also important to consider. Draco found himself feeling very much like a silly young girl. He didn't know what had come over him.

Over the course of the week leading up to this moment, Draco considered whether his feelings for Hermione were progressing in a different direction that he had originally anticipated. He assured himself that they were just friends, and he just hadn't made in a new friend in so long that he forgot what it was like.

Though he wondered why he rejected the notion entirely—surely there was nothing _wrong_ with developing feelings? Hermione was brilliant, witty, passionate, pretty… No, Draco thought, no. Just friends. He didn't want to admit that his reticence was mostly due to the fear that Hermione would laugh in his face if he ever showed _that_ kind of interest. Surely she would want nothing to do with him, a veritable loner with a bit of a drinking problem. _Well, at least I'm bloody handsome_, Draco thought. And that made him feel a little better.

Draco mounted the steps to Hermione's place and took a moment to collect himself before knocking on the door. He wiped the traces of fret and worry from his face, and rapped firmly on the wood before him. When Hermione opened the door, another swooping sensation pummeled his stomach, and it took all his self-control not to start grinning like a fool.

"Good evening," Hermione greeted him warmly. "Let me take that for you," she added, inclining her head towards the grocery bag.

Draco shook his head. "Nonsense. I'll manage," he assured her, crossing the threshold and heading towards the kitchen.

Hermione watched Draco remove his coat and begin to unpack the bag, spreading a variety of food items across the counter. He also removed two bottles of wine, and Hermione began to suspect the brown paper bag was more than an ordinary bag.

"Would you like any help? Hermione asked.

Draco waved his hand. "Don't be ridiculous. This is my apology, remember?"

Hermione smiled. "Right. Well what am I supposed to do then?"

"Enjoy the magic," Draco said with a smirk.

Hermione laughed and settled into a chair. She watched Draco move about her kitchen with an easy grace, as if he had lived there for years. It surprised her how natural it seemed for him to be chopping vegetables. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a small voice was protesting the complete strangeness of Draco Malfoy slicing a tomato in her kitchen. It was rather strange, but Hermione found she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Something about the sureness with which his hands worked was hypnotic.

"When did you discover this love of cooking the Muggle way?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious. It seemed odd for a pampered pureblood to ever be interested in such a thing.

Draco looked up from his preparations to see Hermione's questioning look. He had to keep a smile from spreading across his lips. The honesty and eagerness with which she asked questions always astounded him.

"Well after Hogwarts I spent a lot of time doing absolutely nothing. So I needed something to fill my days. Doing something with my hands kept my mind off other things," Draco explained.

"I have to admit, I'm in a bit of shock seeing you cook me dinner," Hermione said.

Draco laughed. "It is rather amusing, isn't it?"

He couldn't really believe it either, but he was glad to be there anyhow.

"So how's Weasley? Still furious?" Draco asked.

Hermione let out a short laugh. "Well, he's still a little cross with me. I had dinner with him, Harry, and Ginny the other night and he didn't speak more than a handful of words to me. And when we went to the Burrow last weekend I swear he kept knocking my drinks over on purpose…"

Draco chuckled as he tossed some vegetables into a pot. "What about Potter?"

"Well, he didn't let on about that time he saw us in Diagon Alley. He just let Ron stew. I'm sure Ron told him all about it when they got home, but neither of them mentioned it while we were out for dinner," Hermione answered.

"And do they know your dinner plans for this evening?" Draco asked, an eyebrow raised.

"No, though I think they suspect something. They invited me out but I told them I was busy." She hadn't told them she was hanging out with Draco because she wanted to avoid an argument, but she felt a little bad for being secretive.

Draco didn't blame her for keeping their dinner—date—whatever it was, a secret. Potter and Weasley weren't the most understanding of people. Weasley especially.

"So I'm your secret friend then? I see how it is," Draco said, feigning hurt.

It'll all blow up eventually, I'm sure," Hermione said. "Then you can be my not-so-secret friend who gets in regular fist-fights with Ron Weasley."

"That's what you get for being friends with hot-headed Gryffindor types. Us Slytherins were always cool and collected," Draco said matter-of-factly, throwing chicken breast into sizzling pan.

"Right," Hermione replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm. "Speaking of Slytherins, have you heard from your pals Nott and Parkinson lately?"

Draco made a face. "They and the rest of my dearest friends sent me letters this week, offering their condolences. Pansy's at least sounded a little heartfelt. The rest were the typical, formal kind of thing one would expect."

"Oh? Who else sent you one?"

"Goyle, Milicent Bulstrode, Zabini, even Daphne Greengrass."

"Well that's nice, I suppose."

Draco _mmm'_ed noncommittally and sprinkled some spices into his various simmering pots and pans.

"Smells delicious," Hermione commented, relishing the savory aromas.

Draco looked up, a crooked smile on his face. Hermione was suddenly stuck by his expression; how handsome he looked when he was smiling. His face was normally so cold and, and almost severe because of the angularity of his features. But when he smiled, his whole face warmed, and his eyes lit up. Hermione wondered why he ever bothered to stop smiling at all.

"Glass of wine?" he questioned, content to let his food cook alone for a moment.

Hermione nodded and got up to fetch some glasses from the cabinet. She set them down on the counter as Draco uncorked one of the wine bottles. He poured them each a glass. He looked at Hermione, and raised his glass.

"Cheers."

Hermione smiled. "Cheers," she echoed.

They clinked glasses and both took sips. Draco watched Hermione, the light reflecting off the glass and gleaming in her eyes. He had never really noticed before, but there were flecks of gold within the deep brown. He glanced away quickly, lest Hermione catch him staring, and began working on the chocolate soufflé they would have for dessert.

"Are you sure you don't need any help?" Hermione asked. She felt compelled to do _something_. It did not feel natural to just sit around while someone else did all the work. In fact her very nature rebelled against such a thing.

Draco set his glass down. "I'm positive. Now sit back down and properly receive this apology," he said firmly.

"Oh, fine," Hermione conceded, and sat back down at the table as Draco busied himself with a block of cheese and a grater.

"So I've been wondering," Draco began. Hermione looked up at him expectantly. "Are you still doing that spew thing you were working on back in fourth year?"

"First of all it's S.P.E.W. not _spew,_" Hermione said, repeating what she had told Harry and Ron countless times. "And regrettably I haven't had much time to work on it lately. But I am still very interested in elf rights. I'd like to get something done in my spare time."

She felt bad that she hadn't put much effort into her work with magical creatures lately. Healer training and the work that went along with it had taken up almost all of her free time. A thought then crossed her mind.

"Wait a minute—how do you know about S.P.E.W.? I don't recall us being very friendly back in your ferret days."

Draco smiled at the teasing grin on her face. "Ha. Ha. Just because we weren't friends doesn't mean I didn't know things. Hogwarts wasn't too big a place, you know."

"I suppose not. Still, that's an odd bit of information for you to have picked up."

Draco shrugged. "I probably heard Weasley and Potter complaining about it in class."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Probably," she agreed.

"What is it you hope to do?" Draco asked.

Hermione immediately became excited at the prospect of talking about her goals regarding house-elves. She didn't think Draco would be interested, considering he had a house-elf himself, but she would gladly elaborate anyway.

"Well, first and foremost I want to raise awareness of the horrid conditions under which most house-elves are forced to work and live. Second…"

Draco continued to work while listening to Hermione talk about her S.P.E.W. plans. He didn't agree with all of it, but he marveled at the exuberance with which she spoke of it. As she spoke, Draco wondered how he could have ever found her unattractive. Sure, she had been less polished in her appearance back in school, but her eyes were so bright with intelligence and passion. Her whole face lit up when she was talking about something she cared for. She must have looked the same way when she was defending Potter or Weasley, or trading insults with him in years past. It pained him to think of how blinded he must have been to overlook her natural charm and beauty.

"…really just want to make it so they have a choice, you know? They should be free if they know it's an option and that's what they want."

Draco thought how every house-elf he'd known (except perhaps, Dobby) abhorred the idea of being free. But he didn't want to start an argument.

"Well, you're certainly ambitious," Draco replied. "I don't know how one person could manage all that, but if anyone could, it would be you."

Hermione felt herself blushing at the compliment. Draco did not seem the type to hand out compliments readily. "I hope so."

The food was almost ready, so Draco took out his wand and set the table with a few brisk swishes.

"What happened to the Muggle way?" Hermione teased.

"I said I liked to cook the Muggle way, not set the table the Muggle way, " Draco replied. He grabbed the open wine bottle and refilled Hermione's glass, then his own.

"Fair enough," Hermione said, sipping her wine.

Draco checked over everything, making sure it was cooked to perfection. When he was satisfied, he levitated the pots and pans over to the table with him and began transferring portions into Hermione's plate, then his own.

"For your gastronomical pleasure: Chicken a la King with a side of ratatouille. And some warm baguette."

"Everything looks wonderful," Hermione said, admiring Draco's handiwork.

"Well hopefully it tastes even better. Bon appétit."

Hermione picked up her fork and sampled the ratatouille. It was superb. Perfectly seasoned, the vegetables perfectly cooked. She cut a portion of chicken too, finding it even more delicious.

"Oh Draco, this is exquisite," Hermione exclaimed.

Draco smiled genuinely. He had worked hard to hone his skills, and was glad that it showed. "Thank you. Would you like a piece of bread?"

"Yes, please," Hermione answered. Draco sliced her a piece and she took it gratefully.

They ate in silence for a few moments, enjoying the meal. Draco thought this was one of his finest meals thus far. He had made sure it was done perfectly; he wanted to impress Hermione. Judging by her reactions, she was suitably impressed. That thought set a warm feeling blossoming in his chest that he knew was not due to the wine.

"Draco, how did you learn to cook this well?" Hermione truly was amazed. She had been to France, and this food was on par with a lot of what she had eaten there.

He shrugged his shoulders modestly, sipping his wine. "I paid careful attention during my trips to France. And did a lot of practicing. I suppose I've got a flair for it, though."

"I'll say," Hermione replied. "You could go into business I should think."

Draco shook his head. "It's more of a hobby. I really do want to be a Healer."

"Well you'll be brilliant at that too," Hermione said sincerely.

For the first time in a long time, Draco felt a flush creeping into his cheeks. It seemed Hermione had an affect on his that he had not anticipated. It was rather disarming.

"You flatter me too much, Miss Granger," Draco said, taking a drink to (hopefully) hide his slight embarrassment.

Hermione smiled widely. She hadn't meant to embarrass Draco, but she found she liked having such an affect on him. It was good too see him show any emotion whatsoever. She sipped her wine and noted how perfectly it matched their meal. It seemed as though Draco thought of everything.

"Well, I only speak the truth. You're the best in our class."

"Aside from yourself," Draco corrected.

Hermione looked away shyly. She knew she was a top student, but she didn't want to go about bragging. She supposed it really did no good to be bashful; Draco knew that she knew of her own strengths.

"More wine?" Draco questioned, noticing her glass nearing emptiness. She nodded, and Draco summoned the bottle over to the table. He refilled both their glasses.

"This is a pretty nice place you have here," Draco commented, looking around. Although it could probably fit inside his manor's library, it had a nice, homey feel. Unlike his house.

"Oh, it's not much, but I like it," Hermione said. "Plus, my parents pay for it so I can't really complain."

"That's generous of them. They didn't just want you to live at home?"

"We discussed it, but they knew that I would be happier on my own. I plan on paying them back once I'm earning a decent salary."

Draco chuckled. She really was something. "Do you visit with them often?"

Hermione was afraid to get on the subject of family, given recent events, but since Draco had asked, she responded. "I try to pop in a couple times a month. I haven't had much time lately."

"Yeah, they've really been piling on the work haven't they? I suppose it's good. It's keeping me busy."

Hermione looked up from her food. This was the first admission Draco had made, however small, about his father and how he was dealing with it. She decided to tread cautiously; she didn't want another incident like the previous weekend. Not when things seemed to be going so nicely.

"You've seemed to be holding up well," she said.

Draco nodded. "I think once the initial shock wore off, I was okay. It's hard to be alone in that house, but it was almost as if he were already dead."

Draco had required a heavy dose of Sleeping Draught every night that week in order to keep images of his father from haunting his dreams. He supposed these would ebb once time had worn on, but he began to wonder if it was a mistake to bury his father on the grounds. It was a Malfoy family tradition, but he felt a constant presence of his father.

"You can always Floo me for a chat, if you're feeling down. I'm usually up reading."

Draco smiled, but didn't reply. It meant a lot to him that she would offer that. Hermione felt a little silly, so took refuge in her drink. She didn't think Draco would ever call her up in the middle of the night—what a ridiculous thing to even offer. They finished their meals in silence.

"Dessert should be done," Draco said. "Let me clear your things."

Once again he pulled out his wand and this time sent the dishes over to the sink, then set them to washing themselves.

"You're quite thorough," Hermione remarked.

"I'm not one for the haphazard. I prefer to be meticulous rather than not."

Hermione admired that quality, for it was one she herself possessed. Draco got up from the table, apparently preferring to take his dessert out of the oven by hand. As soon as he opened the oven door, a delicious chocolate aroma filled the kitchen. He carried it over to the table, and Hermione caught a glimpse of the most perfect looking soufflé she had ever laid eyes on.

Draco leaned over to serve her some. For some reason, he found he wanted to do it personally rather than with magic.

As Draco leaned close to fill her plate, Hermione inhaled a musky yet sweet scent that she surmised must have been Draco's cologne. It reminded her partly of the smell of a library. It was intoxicating.

Hermione didn't even realize Draco had walked away and returned with the other bottle of wine until he spoke.

"I think you'll find this one better-paired with dessert," Draco explained, pouring it into a fresh glass.

Draco watched as Hermione took a bite of the soufflé, and was delighted to see the look of enjoyment on her face. He had never experienced this aspect of cooking before; seeing other people enjoy your work. He found that he quite liked it. Perhaps he would go into this professionally after all.

"This is fantastic," Hermione said, after eating a few bites. She took a sip of the new wine and found that it did indeed match the flavor perfectly.

"I'm glad you like it. You're the first person I've actually cooked for," Draco admitted. "Usually it's just for myself."

"I feel privileged, then."

Again, Draco felt like blushing, but bullied his body out of doing so. There was still that part of his mind that cautioned him about keeping his guard up.

As they enjoyed the dessert, the talk inevitably turned to Healer training once more. They laughed over Draco's jibes at Edwin Chambers, and eventually grossed themselves out by talking about Scrofungulus in far too much detail. They no longer felt like eating after that, and Draco promptly cleared the soufflé and the plates from the table. He did, however, leave the wine.

Hermione's cheeks felt warm, and her head a bit fuzzy. It was the wine, she knew, but she welcomed the feeling because it was altogether quite pleasant. She was not much of a drinker, usually keeping to a few butterbeers when she went out, so wine affected her easily.

"There's Price and Gall, both pretty dull. Price will do whatever I tell him to, though," Draco said, after Hermione asked him who he'd had rounds with so far.

"Price is all right," Hermione said. "I've worked with that witch from France, Sandrine. She's fairly bright."

"You haven't had rounds with Chambers, have you?" Draco asked.

"Can't say I've had the pleasure."

"You're lucky. He's a bloody idiot. I swear if I wasn't watching him he'd end up walking around with a bedpan for a hat."

"Oh you're awful! He isn't so bad. Not everyone is as brilliant as you!"

"Can't be helped, I suppose."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's nice enough, and pleasant to work with."

"He has taken a shine to you, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh please!" Hermione blushed lightly.

"Seriously. He practically worships you."

Hermione blushed deeper, not knowing quite what to say. She had noticed Edwin having a bit of a crush on her, but she tried to avoid it best she could. She didn't do anything to encourage him, so she figured his feelings would ebb eventually.

"Aha! That's it then, you've got the hots for Chambers," Draco teased.

"I do _not_!"

"I can see it now—him taking you out to dinner, reading the menu upside-down…"

"Oh stop," Hermione said, laughing.

"You'd better hope the kids get your brains."

"And you'd better hope _your_ kids inherit their mother's temperament, or else they're bound to be as mouthy as you."

Draco smirked. "They'd better be, so that they can pick on yours and Chambers' little brats."

"I should think I'd need to agree to a date with Edwin before we start naming our children."

"Ah yes, poor Chambers. Habitually rejected by his one true love."

"Hardly. He never actually gets around to asking me straight out."

"That's because you never give him the chance. As soon as he broaches the subject you bring up Potter and Weasley like a shield. You're a cruel woman, Hermione Granger."

"Been eavesdropping, have you?"

"Only a little."

They both laughed. Hermione rubbed her arms absently.

"Are you cold?" Draco asked.

"A bit. I'll just go get a sweater."

Hermione got up and stumbled slightly, finding herself rather lightheaded. Instead of hitting the chair or table behind her, she discovered that Draco had swiftly positioned himself to catch her, and she landed with a soft thud in his lap. She was surprised by how strong his arms were.

"I'm sorry," Hermione said softly. "Lost my footing."

Draco's breath caught in his throat. Hermione was soft, light. Her hair smelled subtly of lavender. For the first time, he noticed that she had the lightest touch of freckles across her nose. "It—it's quite all right," Draco replied, barely above a whisper. It seemed that even the slight motion of breathing would be too much.

Hermione didn't know what kept her there, but she found herself unable to move. Her and Draco looked at one another for a long moment. Butterflies erupted in her stomach. She was sure that Draco could hear her heart pounding.

Draco's heart was racing. There were a hundred different thoughts running through his head, but he couldn't put words to any of them. His eyes were locked with hers, and it was as if no force on earth could break that gaze.

"Well I better get that sweater…" Hermione spoke in a low voice. She broke eye contact with Draco, and the butterflies vanished. When she looked back to him as she stood, it seemed that the intensity of that one moment had dissipated. Hermione felt dazed, and not from the wine.

Draco watched Hermione leave the kitchen with reluctance. He could still feel the weight of her, and smell the scent of her hair. He wasn't sure what had just happened, only that _something _had. He still felt an intensity that he could not describe.

In her room, Hermione took deep, calming breaths. Something had passed between the two of them in that brief moment, but she could not put words to it. There had been something in his eyes that Hermione hadn't seen there before. She grabbed a black cardigan and pulled it on. She wasn't sure how to react when she went back into the kitchen.

Draco looked up as Hermione reentered the room. He didn't know exactly what to say, and by the looks of it, neither did Hermione. He watched her sit back down, trying to formulate a natural conversation in his head.

"Better?" Draco asked, forcing himself to sound as normal as possible.

Hermione nodded. She was grateful that Draco had spoken first; it took away the tension she felt building. She was afraid that the conversation would become awkward. "It has gotten rather chilly these past few nights."

"I prefer the colder weather," Draco said. It was easier to get away with always wearing long sleeved shirts, which he had to do to cover his Dark Mark. No spell or potion would cover it, and Draco refused to display it to the general public.

"I do too, actually," Hermione agreed. She liked the crisp air of the fall, and the fresh smell of snow. "There's something so comforting about coming inside from a cold winter day, lighting a fire, and having a cup of tea."

Draco agreed. "Although if it gets _too _cold, I usually take a vacation to my family's villa in Nice for an undisclosed period of time."

"That sounds lovely," Hermione said longingly. She had only been to Paris, but she would love to see the Mediterranean coast.

"You'd be welcome to visit," Draco said, unsure if this was an appropriate thing to say. He wasn't trying to suggest anything, but he really would welcome her visit if he were in France. As nice as it was, it was lonely to always vacation by himself.

Images of her and Draco having dinner in the Malfoy's expansive French villa flashed unbidden through Hermione's thoughts. She couldn't deny that the image was rather appealing. "I would love to," Hermione replied. "So long as you promise to cook for me again, of course," she added.

Draco grinned, mostly due to the fact that their conversation had returned to normal after that strange moment. "Of course."

"That soufflé was probably the best dessert I've ever eaten," Hermione complimented him.

"Thank you," Draco said sincerely. Inwardly, he was beaming with pride. He knew that Hermione wouldn't exaggerate her praise.

"Perhaps you can teach me as well. Then Harry and Ron wouldn't complain about my cooking."

"I find it hard to believe there's something you're not good at," Draco said.

"We've already covered this. I'm a dreadful flier. Turns out I'm not such a good cook either."

"Well like with flying, a few lessons with me and you'll be better than Potter."

"I imagine that will be easier with cooking."

"Trust me, I can teach you to fly."

Hermione was skeptical. Harry himself had tried to give her tips, but nothing had ever helped her. She figured she was just meant to stay firmly on the ground. "Perhaps I'll take you up on that."

"I look forward to it," Draco said happily. Secretly, his stomach did a somersault at the prospect of spending more time with Hermione outside of class.

Hermione seriously considered accepting flying lessons from Draco in the near future. She could just imagine the looks on her friends' faces when she showed up to a pick-up Quidditch match and could actually play competently. She smiled at the thought, but had to cover her mouth as it stretched into a yawn.

A yawn escaped Draco's mouth as well. It was getting late, but he didn't want the night to end. He could talk to Hermione for hours, and had done just that.

"I suppose it is getting late," Hermione noted. She was enjoying the evening very much, but she knew Draco would have to leave eventually. In the back of her mind, a voice was telling her that she hoped this wouldn't be the last time her and Draco had dinner together.

"Let me clean up my mess," Draco said, standing up. He went over to the counter, wand out, and began returning dishes to their places and putting waste in the garbage.

Hermione watched as Draco cleaned up, impressed that he was so tidy. Ron was an absolute slob, and Harry not much better. She wasn't used to boys who actually cared to clean up after themselves. It was quite refreshing.

When Draco finished, he slipped his wand back into his pocket, and turned to face Hermione. She stood up from her chair, folding her arms across her chest. She looked sleepy, and Draco had the urge to scoop her up and carry her to bed. Mostly, he just wanted to feel her in his arms again.

Hermione lifted Draco's coat off the back of a chair. It had the same exhilarating aroma as his cologne. She held it out to him.

"Thanks," Draco said, pulling it on.

"Thank _you_," Hermione said. "For everything. It was wonderful."

"I'll take that to mean you've accepted my apology?" Draco asked, a lopsided grin gracing his features.

"I'm half-hoping you cross me more often, if this is the nature of all your apologies."

Draco smiled. "Well I'll being working on my next offense straight away."

"Good," Hermione replied with a grin.

Draco was at the door now, regretting that the night had to end. Hermione stood facing him. He found that he was nervous once again.

"Well…goodnight," Hermione said, feeling slightly awkward. She looked into his eyes again, that piercing gray hard to tear her gaze from.

"Goodnight," Draco replied. But he didn't open the door. Hermione was looking at him, her eyes penetrating. Without giving it much thought, Draco reached for Hermione's hand. It was small, and soft. He brought it to his lips, and placed a light kiss on the back of her knuckles.

Hermione held her breath as Draco lifted her hand. His hands were rough, not at all what she expected. When he kissed the back of her hand, her heart leapt. She felt something akin to a spark where his lips met her skin.

Draco let her hand go slowly, wishing he could grab it again as soon as it resumed its natural place by Hermione's side.

"Goodbye, Hermione," Draco said, his voice low.

"Bye," Hermione replied.

Draco opened the door and left, with one last look at Hermione. He felt like he practically floated down the stairs and into the street. He felt buoyant; a thousand times better than he had felt in years. With a broad grin on his face Draco Apparated away from the dimly lit street.

Hermione stood with her back to the door for a few moments, trying to focus her thoughts. Her heart was still racing, and it was difficult to keep a smile off her face. Yet she was wracked with confusion. Could it be possible that she was attracted to Draco Malfoy? That she had a _crush_ on him? She could scarcely believe it. But the fluttering in her stomach told her there was some truth to it.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, feeling silly, yet still unable to wipe the smile form her face. She changed into her pajamas and lay in bed, but didn't think she would be able to fall asleep any time soon.

*****

Draco lay in his bed, his hands behind his head, a smirk etched on his face. He replayed the whole night over and over. It astounded him that he had a perfectly lovely evening with Hermione Granger of all people. What surprised him even more was that for the first time, he was pretty sure he had a crush on someone. It was a strange and new experience, frightening and exciting at the same time. The giddiness of it all pushed all negative thoughts from Draco's mind. He did not stop to worry that Hermione might not feel the same way, or of how this might affect their friendship. He was unable to think of anything but the image of Hermione's smiling face, and how it made him feel. For once, Draco drifted off to sleep with a smile on his lips.


	10. A Little Complication

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews, everyone! I'm glad that you enjoyed their dinner date. I look forward to writing more of them.

**Avanell**: I checked out the "Sweet Justice" fic after you mentioned it in your review. I noticed some similarities too and just wanted to assure you and everyone else that they are purely coincidental! That is a lovely story though and I'm pleased to be compared to it. :)

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

A Little Complication 

Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, unsure what to do with her hands. She tugged at a loose thread, spinning it between her fingers. An uneasy feeling twisted in her stomach. As she looked around the cluttered living room of the Burrow, Hermione silently thanked whatever force had compelled all the Weasley's save Ginny to leave for the afternoon. Although, a part of her hoped that Ginny would never return from the kitchen with the tray of tea she had gone to fetch. Hermione had come to talk about Draco, and she was quite apprehensive to see Ginny's reaction.

She had debated all morning whether or not she would even bother divulging her little secret. But she needed to talk to someone, to reason out what had happened the previous evening. Harry and Ron were not the people for that job. It required a woman's perspective. After pacing her apartment for some time, Hermione decided she would go to the Burrow, confess to Ginny, and then dissect her date—for she was now considering it a date—moment by moment. She spent every spare moment hoping against hope that Ginny would understand, and be able to look past the fact that it was Draco Malfoy himself they were talking about. Hermione knew that Ginny was much the same as Ron, but at the same time she was a girl, and could thus understand better than her brother ever could.

It had been a stroke of luck on her part that Ginny was the only one home. She wouldn't have to look over her shoulder every other moment to see which Weasley was listening in. Ginny had been surprised to see her, but excited too. She had inquired as to the reason of the unexpected visit, and Hermione had responded that she didn't need a reason to visit her dearest friend. Ginny had naturally been suspicious, but hadn't questioned further. She told Hermione to have a seat in the living room while she made a pot of tea.

And there Hermione sat, fretting over exactly how she would broach the subject. Unlike Harry and Ron, Ginny had no idea about her involvement with Draco whatsoever. At least telling her would bring them all relatively up to speed. So long as Ginny didn't mention the particulars of whatever they talked about today, things would go smoothly. Hermione knew this was wishful thinking at best, but she didn't want to admit it. Besides, there was really no use telling Harry or Ron about her date until she knew for sure what was going on between her and Draco.

Hermione's thoughts were interrupted when Ginny came back into the room, bearing a tray of tea and biscuits. She set the tray down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Hermione. They both poured themselves cups of tea. Hermione had to be careful not to let Ginny see her hands nervously shaking as she brought the cup to her lips and took a calming sip.

"So Hermione, what _really _brings you by today?" Ginny asked, showing that keen perception that so eluded her brother Ron.

But Hermione would not give in so easily. "Can't I just pop in for a visit? We haven't properly hung out since we went shopping last month."

"Yes, but I know you Hermione. You have that look on your face that tells me your brain is working much too fast," Ginny said knowingly.

Hermione sighed. She sipped her tea, not quite ready to talk about it just yet. Whatever resolve she had when she left her apartment had dissolved like the sugar in her tea. She suddenly felt that there was no way Ginny could possibly understand, that she would scream at her until she ran out of the Burrow. Hermione mentally scolded herself; she was overreacting. Ginny might be hotheaded, but she was compassionate too.

Ginny watched her patiently, seeming to understand that there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't quite get around to it. Hermione was thankful. Finally, Hermione decided she was ready to speak. "Ginny, there is something I need to talk to you about."

Ginny smirked. "I know. So out with it then!"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, you know how Draco Malfoy is in my Healer program?"

"Yes…" Ginny said slowly. Hermione figured Ginny could already guess where this was going.

"The thing is…over the past month or so…we've—er—become, friends. We're partners in class, you see," Hermione explained lamely. Ginny merely raised an eyebrow, so she continued. "And, well, after Lucius Malfoy died last week we got…closer."

Ginny made an indelicate noise in the back of her throat, but she didn't interrupt. Hermione took another deep breath before continuing. "And last night Draco came over to my place…" Ginny's eyebrows shot up at this statement. "And we had dinner. And—er—well, I…rather enjoyed it."

Hermione looked down at her lap, then back up at her friend. Ginny was looking at her curiously, though silent. After a moment, Ginny spoke.

"So what you're telling me is that you and Draco Malfoy have had a date, and you had a good time?" Ginny asked, putting particular emphasis on the "Malfoy."

Hermione nodded hesitantly, trying to gauge Ginny's facial expression. The redhead was silent for a few moments more. They stared at one another across the table for what seemed like an eternity. Ginny set her tea down calmly, smoothed her hair, and then exploded.

"_WHAT?_" Ginny exclaimed. "Are you _SERIOUS_?"

Hermione winced and nodded again. She thought Ginny was going to ream her out something awful, so she prepared for the worst. Contrary to all her expectations, Ginny burst out laughing. Hermione was shocked and confused—she assumed there would be yelling at this point, not laughter. Though if this meant Ginny wasn't upset, then that would be a relief.

"I can't _believe_ it!" Ginny practically shouted.

"Neither can I," Hermione admitted. "So you—you're not angry?"

Ginny laughed again. "No I'm not _angry_. I think you're quite possibly mad, but I'm not angry. Harry is always saying how Malfoy and the others deserve a second chance and all that. Guess it rubbed off on me."

Hermione permitted herself to breathe a sigh of relief. Ginny wasn't upset with her. Shocked yes, but angry no. Hermione couldn't even express in words how grateful she was to know this. It would make eventually telling Harry and Ron easier, that is, if there was going to be anything to tell. Hermione kept finding herself thinking ahead, assuming that there would be more dates between Draco and herself. She had to remind herself not to jump to conclusions; she didn't know what Draco was thinking.

"I think I might indeed be going a bit mad. It's like the world's been turned upside-down."

A shrewd smile crept onto Ginny's lips. "You like him," she said simply.

"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't consent to spend time with him outside of class."

"No, no. I mean you _like_ him."

Hermione felt her ears being to warm. "Well, that's really what I've come here to talk to you about."

"Aha," Ginny said, smirking. There was a triumphant look on her face. "And tell me, why haven't you turned to my dear brother or boyfriend with this juicy bit of gossip?"

Hermione could tell that Ginny was teasing her. She knew as well as Hermione did that the two of them would not take well to the idea of their best friend having a date with one of their former enemies. Perhaps that's why Ginny wasn't showing her anger, if any existed at all. Because she knew how difficult it would be for Hermione to admit the exact same thing to her male friends

"Well, your dear brother discovered something that did not please him…"

Hermione reiterated the story of how Ron ran into Draco on the street outside her apartment, and then had a giant row with her. She also divulged the fact that Harry knew about her and Draco's friendship. (To which Ginny exclaimed, "That bastard!") Hermione urged Ginny that Harry and Ron could not know the _extent_ of her and Draco's friendship. Ginny assured her that she would have to be an idiot to tell Ron and Harry before Hermione was ready to do so.

"I should have known there was _something_ going on," Ginny said. "All last week Ron was being extra surly, and he had Harry were having hushed conversations whenever they thought I wasn't paying attention."

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away," Hermione said sincerely.

Ginny waved her hand dismissively, as if to tell Hermione not to bother worrying about it. "So give me the details about this date," Ginny said excitedly.

Hermione smiled slightly. "Well, he cooked for me."

Ginny's eyes widened. "Malfoy can cook?" she asked, as if it were the most absurd thing she could have possibly imagined.

"Very well, actually," Hermione said with a laugh. "He made the most delicious French cuisine. And the chocolate soufflé he made for dessert…incredible."

Ginny shook her head in disbelief. "Isn't that something…" she said absently. "Now what about the rest of the date? What do you and Malfoy possibly have to talk about?"

"Well, we do have the same class after all. It's quite intensive, so there's a lot to talk about there."

"Oh c'mon, you must talk about something more interesting than that!"

"We talked about ordinary things. Family, friends, just general stuff. Though he did tell me I was welcome to visit him at his villa in Nice if he vacationed there this winter."

Ginny squealed with excitement. "How _romantic_! You're going to go, aren't you?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. We've had one date that I'm not sure he even considers a date. And have you forgotten that it's Draco Malfoy we're talking about? Are you saying you _encourage_ this?"

"Whatever makes you happy, Hermione. If you say he's changed, I'll take your word for it. Though I must admit I'm skeptical, you look positively radiant right now. So I'm not going to question it, for now."

Hermione was mildly abashed, but she smiled anyway. "I am _not_ radiant. I just had a good night, is all."

Ginny grinned wickedly. "Exactly _how_ good a night was it?" she asked slyly.

"Ginny!" Hermione exclaimed. "It was only our first date. He was a perfect gentlemen."

Ginny looked disappointed. "So no kiss? Nothing?"

Hermione recalled how Draco had kissed her hand before he left, how sweet and perfect a moment it had been. "He kissed my hand when we said goodnight," she told Ginny.

Ginny looked surprised. "Malfoy—cute. Who would have thought?"

Hermione nodded; she had to agree, because she too never would have expected it. "There is something else I wanted to discuss," Hermione began. She described the best she could that brief but intense moment that had passed between her and Draco when she fell into his lap, hoping that Ginny would be able to make something of it that Hermione herself had not yet imagined.

"I don't think it was just the wine, Hermione," Ginny observed, a curious expression on her face.

"That must have something to do with it though, right? I mean, we hardly know each other…"

"I don't know. Maybe it was love at first sight. After seven years of knowing him. And hating him. Then not seeing him. And then kind of liking him."

Hermione stared at Ginny for a long moment, trying to figure out if she had actually said that bit of nonsense. "What an absolutely brilliant theory," she scoffed.

Ginny laughed. "Well I don't know Hermione, it's feelings. They're strange. You can't always come up with a logical explanation."

That there might not be a logical explanation for things never occurred to Hermione, whose life was governed by the logical, the reasonable. Perhaps it would not be so easy to figure everything out.

"I suppose I just won't overanalyze. We'll see what happens during the week. If he asks me out for this weekend, I'll take it as a good sign."

"Sounds _logical_ to me," Ginny said.

"Honestly I can't even believe this. I sound like a fool," Hermione said, scolding herself.

"It's rather endearing, actually," Ginny replied. "I know I'm not the only one who enjoys seeing you out of your element. It's probably good for you."

Hermione made a face. Ginny and her other friends did so love to catch her in situations where she didn't have the answer or know exactly what to do. Ginny was likely to be very smug about the whole Draco thing for quite some time. At least, Hermione thought, she can't brag about it to Harry and Ron. She'd already sworn she wouldn't tell them. That thought comforted Hermione, if only a little.

"You know, if I wasn't required to think Malfoy is a smarmy git, then I'd say he's quite good-looking," Ginny said.

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Don't let anyone in your family hear you say that."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I know. But seriously, I saw his picture in the _Prophet_. They managed to photograph him while he was at Azkaban after Lucius Malfoy died. I must say he has the whole brooding thing down."

"Indeed."

"He looks like he's bulked up a little since Hogwarts. He doesn't look like a scrawny weasel anymore."

"That he doesn't," Hermione agreed with a laugh. "He actually looks quite handsome when he's smiling."

"Well you've always been strange. Most girls love the dark, tormented, misunderstood soul. You like goofy blokes. That's why you dated my brother and broke things off with Krum."

"Are you saying Harry is a dark, tormented, misunderstood soul?"

"Well, he was for a bit, wasn't he?"

"I suppose. But I don't go for _goofy_," Hermione protested. "Draco certainly isn't goofy."

"Well, Ron is."

"And as you know, Ron's and my relationship did not work out so nicely."

Ginny _hmm_'ed and nodded. "Perhaps you're right. Shame though. I would have loved to have you as a sister. Merlin knows there's a lack of females in the Weasley family."

Hermione smiled. "You have Fleur for a sister."

"I'll grant you she's all right now, but I'd much prefer you."

"Sorry, Gin. I don't foresee myself marrying into the Weasley clan."

Ginny smirked. "How about the Malfoy one?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's see if I get a second date before a marriage proposal."

"Why don't you ask him out, then?" Ginny asked.

"Call me old fashioned, but I'd like to be asked."

Ginny nodded. "Understandable. I'm sure he will. And when you do have another date. I want _all_ the details."

Hermione didn't miss the suggestive tone of Ginny's voice. And she couldn't deny that Malfoy's soft kiss on her hand left her wondering about something more. She was about to reply, when the sound of the front door flying open, followed by numerous shouts, rang through the Burrow. A few moments later, Mrs. Weasley came bursting into the room.

"Fleur's having the baby!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide and cheeks red.

Ginny squealed and jumped up out of her seat. "Oh, how wonderful!"

"Is she at St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked.

Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Yes, yes. I just came back to tell Ginny, but how lovely to find you here Hermione. Let's all Floo there straight away!"

Hermione found herself quite excited. She had never known anyone who'd had a baby. And certainly had never been there the day of the birth. She started picturing what it would look like, and if Fleur would be right after all thinking it was a girl.

*****

Draco could hardly wait to get to class on Monday morning. He had spent practically the entire weekend thinking about his dinner with Hermione. It had been all that he'd hoped for and more. The more he considered it, the more excited he became at the prospect of having dinner with her again. Or just seeing her. When Draco realized that he was thinking these things, he felt embarrassed, despite being alone. He was not used to his feelings getting the best of him in any situation. But he couldn't help it; there was something about Hermione that made him forget all of his usual pretenses.

Draco had spent most of his weekend cooking—trying out new recipes for meals he hoped to make for Hermione. He was in good spirits, whistling and humming as he darted around the kitchen, grabbing this and that. Gertie was astonished; she had never seen her master in such a good mood. Draco assured the little house-elf that he was not in fact ill, just happy. Gertie seemed pleased.

After some consideration, Draco had decided that he would ask Hermione to have dinner with him again. Only this time, he wanted to be clear that he thought it was a date. After mulling it over and over, he surmised that Hermione had enjoyed herself, and would be amendable to having an official date with him. A nagging thought that he might be overestimating her interest in him popped up every so often, but Draco did his best to ignore it. He had long since learned that being confident was much more satisfying than fretting over every little thing. The doubts he had before about being more than friends with Hermione were quickly vanishing. He was amazed how one dinner could have changed so much.

Thinking back to that brief and odd moment where Hermione had fallen onto his lap, Draco smiled. He couldn't forget the look in her eyes, though it had only been for mere seconds. Something there told him that he wasn't just being silly, that she had some feelings for him as well.

And she was so easy to talk to. Draco had always felt starved for conversation with his peers. There never seemed to be any substance to what they were saying. It was all empty words and formalities. The only person he had even felt remotely challenged by was Blaise, but they quickly fell out of touch after Hogwarts. Hermione was clever and possessed a sharp wit. Draco found talking with her exhilarating. Draco found her fascinating even when they were talking about the most mundane of subjects.

Waiting for class to begin, Draco was practically bouncing in his seat. He had to exercise a lot of self-control to keep himself from smiling constantly. Every time he heard the door swing open, he turned expectantly. When it finally was Hermione who entered the room, Draco's stomach lurched, though not unpleasantly so. She smiled at him as she took her seat.

"How was your weekend?" Draco asked.

Hermione turned. "Oh it was lovely. Bill and Fleur Weasley had their baby. A little girl. She's adorable."

Draco had forgotten that Fleur Delacour married Bill Weasley. He felt a momentary pang of guilt; it was because of him that Fenrir Greyback had been able to get into Hogwarts and attack Bill. Draco forced himself not to think of it.

"That's wonderful. Although another red-haired Weasley brat might be too much for the world to handle."

Hermione made a face at him and refrained from sticking out her tongue. "For your information, Victoire has blonde hair like her mother."

Draco sighed dramatically. "What a relief."

"And how was your weekend?" Hermione asked.

"I tried out some new recipes. I think they're even better than my last meal."

Hermione stomach fluttered. Was Draco going to ask her have dinner again? She hoped that's where he was going with it. "Sounds great."

Draco was about to go on, when Healer Blarney began speaking. Hermione turned around, and Draco felt slightly disappointed. He had wanted to ask Hermione if he could cook her dinner again, but Healer Blarney had interrupted those plans. Draco resolved to ask her at lunch. The thought made it very difficult to pay attention during class. Even Hermione had a bit of trouble paying attention, the thought that Draco might be asking her to dinner again bouncing around in her head.

When Healer Blarney announced lunch break, Hermione and Draco both stood up from their seats immediately. Edwin looked over at Hermione, curiously, but didn't say anything. It had become so ingrained in their daily activities to have lunch together that Hermione and Draco left the classroom together without a word. Draco was briefly astonished at how comfortable it felt to be involved in such a routine, even if it was insignificant.

"So what kind of recipes did you try out?" Hermione asked, wanting to steer the conversation back to that topic. She wanted Draco to ask her, but she wasn't averse to a little prodding.

"Oh a little of this, a little of that," Draco replied casually.

"How specific," Hermione remarked.

Draco smirked. "Well, I want it to be a surprise."

"Oh?" Hermione's heart was racing.

Draco was nervous again, but he didn't let it come through in his voice or expression. "Yes, I was hoping I could cook for you again. Would you have dinner with me on Friday evening?"

Hermione smiled widely. "Yes, of course," she replied. Draco smiled in that way that lit up his face and made Hermione weak in the knees. "My place?"

Draco nodded. He was brimming with excitement, already looking forward to Friday. Once again, that floating sensation came over him and he felt like he glided alongside Hermione as they entered the cafeteria.

*****

"Zat Malfoy, he is vary good looking, non?" Sandrine commented to Hermione.

Hermione looked up from her book. She was on rounds that evening with Sandrine Lacroix, a French witch who Hermione had worked with before. She was intelligent and overall pleasant to work with. Although she had a tendency to gossip when Hermione was more interested in studying. Since there was nothing going on that evening, Sandrine had turned to her usual topic of conversation—their classmates. Hermione sighed to herself and smiled indulgently.

"I suppose," Hermione said carefully. She didn't know where Sandrine was going with this.

"Eet is his eyes, I zink. So mysterious."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, lovely eyes." She didn't feel entirely comfortable having this type of "girl talk" with someone she hardly knew.

"And a strong jaw. I like zat in a man."

Hermione nodded again. She thought of Draco's sharp, angular features, and how they suited him perfectly. His face often looked like it was carved of marble. Beautiful and perfect like a Greek statue. Thinking of him made her excited once again for their impending dinner date.

"The two of you seem to be good friends. Does he 'ave a girlfriend?"

Hermione felt a pang of jealousy. It seemed that Sandrine was interested in Draco. What hope did Hermione have against her, if she chose to pursue him? Sandrine was tall and willowy, with shining blonde hair and clear blue eyes. Hermione had become more comfortable with her appearance as she got older, but she couldn't help but feel shabby next to Sandrine.

"Oh—well, not exactly…"

Sandrine smiled. "Très bon!"

Hermione frowned. "I thought you and the others were all suspicious of him."

Sandrine shook her head, and laughed—a light, tinkling sort of sound. "Oui, at first. But he does not seem evil. Au contraire, he seems…misunderstood."

"I see," Hermione said coolly. She was becoming more annoyed by the second. She wanted to scream that she was seeing Draco, and Sandrine had better back off, but she didn't feel like it was her place. Her and Draco weren't officially dating. They hadn't even had their second date yet.

"Since ze two of you are friends, do you zink you could say somezing to him for me?"

"Oh, I don't think so…"

Sandrine pouted. "Why not? Do you not zink zat he would like me?"

"Well it's not that…I just—he appreciates forthrightness."

"Ah," Sandrine said, tapping a perfectly manicured finger against her temple. "Well zen I suppose I could speak wiz him myself."

"I suppose you could."

"You do not mind, do you 'Ermione?" Sandrine asked.

"Why would I mind?" Hermione said, her voice sounding a little more strained than she would have liked.

"I did not know if zere was somezing between ze two of you?"

"Well, you can speak with whoever you like, Sandrine. And so can Draco."

Sandrine looked at her curiously for a moment, then nodded. "Of course."

Hermione felt the sudden need to talk to Draco. The thought of him cooking dinner for Sandrine, making her laugh, kissing her hand…it was enough to put her in a foul mood. Hermione was not usually one for jealousy, but she felt it creeping up on her. She knew that it was irrational; Sandrine and Draco hadn't even spoken. But she couldn't help to feel that if they did, Draco would fall for her. Why did this have to happen now, when things were just starting to progress nicely? Hermione took refuge in her book, and pointedly ignored Sandrine for the rest of the evening.

*****

Hermione was anxious in class the following day. She kept glancing at Sandrine, waiting to see if she would make her move. Hermione felt ridiculous, but she couldn't help it. Draco noticed that Hermione seemed agitated, but he didn't question her. He watched her during Healer Blarney's lecture—she kept glancing to her right, and fidgeting with her hair. Draco wondered what could be bothering her. He hoped that it wasn't him, because he was very much looking forward to their date later that evening.

When lunch break came around, Draco was about to speak to Hermione, but interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned and found himself facing a pretty blonde witch whose name escaped him.

"'Allo, I am Sandrine Lacroix. I do not think we 'ave been properly introduced." She thrust out her hand.

Draco regarded her for a moment, and then shook her hand briefly. "Draco Malfoy."

"Enchanté. 'Ow is it zat we 'ave not met before?" Sandrine asked, flashing (what Draco assumed) was her most winsome smile.

"We haven't had rounds at the same time. And there isn't much opportunity for socializing in class."

Sandrine nodded. "It is a shame zat we do not switch partners. I would very much like to work wiz you. You are quite skilled, from what I 'ave seen in class."

"Thank you. But I think the groups we are in now work extremely well, don't you?" Draco said, looking over at Hermione. Only she wasn't in her seat. Draco glanced around, and saw that she was leaving the classroom with Chambers. Disappointment settled in his stomach, and he wished that this witch would get on with whatever it was she wanted.

A frown creased Sandrine's lips. Draco could tell she was used to hearing what she wanted. "Oui, zey are satisfactory. But sometimes a change can be nice, wouldn't you agree?"

"Perhaps," Draco replied noncommittally.

Draco could sense Sandrine's frustration. The conversation was not going the way she had planned. Draco began to suspect what she was after, but he decided to feign ignorance. He wasn't interested.

"Zen perhaps lunch? If we cannot be partners at least we could get to know eachozzer a little better."

Normally, Draco would be thrilled that an attractive witch was asking him to lunch. But that was before he met (or re-met, rather) Hermione. There was something more there than just an attraction, and Draco wanted desperately to discover it.

"I'm sorry, I have lunch plans with Hermione."

"I see," Sandrine said. "Very well zen. I will see you around."

With that, she swept out of the room. Draco felt a little bad for being so curt, but he didn't want her to get the wrong idea. He left the room in a hurry, hoping that he would get to the cafeteria before Hermione was too engrossed in conversation with Chambers. He almost laughed aloud at the thought. But when he burst through the cafeteria doors, he found himself scanning the room nervously. He saw Hermione getting out of line with a tray, and it looked as if she was preparing to sit down with Chambers and some of their other classmates. He crossed the room in a few long strides and called out, "Hermione!"

Hermione looked up sharply and saw Draco coming towards her. She felt a swelling sensation in her chest, and was thrilled to see that he was not with Sandrine. She had been preparing herself for the sight of them walking into the cafeteria together, but she hadn't needed to, apparently.

"Draco," she replied evenly, trying to keep her excitement from showing in her face. She had picked up a thing or two from observing Draco's facial expressions.

"Not having lunch without me, are you?" he asked, a roguish grin forming on his lips.

Hermione permitted herself to smile. "It looked as though you might have other plans," she said, referring to Sandrine.

"Sandrine? No. Merely an obstacle."

Hermione was glad to hear it. "Shall we, then?"

Draco led the way to their usual table. They sat down, and fell easily into conversation. Draco completely forgot to eat lunch. Yet when the lunch period was over, he still felt full and satisfied.

* * *

**A/N:** I'm sorry if this chapter seems a bit dull, but I struggled with it. I know where I want the story to progress, but it's too soon for certain points. So this chapter was a lot of filler. I promise things will get much more intriguing. Blah, I won't ramble any more!

Also, I fiddled with the timeline of Victoire's birth a little to suit my purposes, but I don't think it changes much canon-wise.


	11. Sinking In

**CHAPTER TEN**

Sinking In

Hermione sat in the living room, drumming her fingers on an end table. Draco was due to arrive at any moment, and she could not keep still. She glanced at her reflection in nearby picture frames and in the darkened windows. Ginny had convinced her to put one some makeup, but she felt very self-conscious. She normally wore nothing more than a coat of lip balm, but Ginny had whipped out a trunk full of beauty products that Hermione couldn't barely even put a name to. Ginny used her wand to curl Hermione's eyelashes and then applied a coat of mascara. She lightly swept some blush across Hermione's cheeks, then applied a subtle shimmery lip color. Hermione had to admit that her friend was talented, because she did not look like the clown she feared. Ginny had simply enhanced her features with a few strategic bits of makeup.

Still, Hermione couldn't help but feel like a painted doll. She had adamantly refused to have her hair straightened. It fell in soft waves as it usually did, without the bushiness that had once characterized it. Ginny also tried to convince Hermione to wear that black dress she had bought on their shopping trip, but Hermione wouldn't hear of it. It was far too revealing for the nature of their date, as far as she was concerned. She satisfied Ginny by telling her she did plan to wear a skirt, however. Ginny insisted she borrow a pair of black heels, and Hermione begrudgingly agreed. After accepting the shoes, Hermione had rushed home to change out of her heinous lime-green Healer robes.

Hermione stood up and paced around her living room, still a little unsteady in the heels. Though she did appreciate how slender they made her legs look. She hoped she hadn't overdressed; she was wearing a black layered skirt that came to just above her knee, and a sleeveless eggshell blouse that had ruffles in the front. She usually wore this outfit, along with a black cardigan and some flats to holiday gatherings or important meetings. At least Ginny would approve, she mused.

A knock on the door startled her. She smiled, realized that it was Draco on the other side of that door. She smoothed her hair one last time, then marched confidently to the door, and pulled it open.

Draco had to keep his jaw from dropping when Hermione opened the door. She looked stunning. The only other time he had seen her dressed up was the Yule Ball some five years before, but she had been a girl then. Now she was a woman, and the skirt and blouse she was wearing reflected that in the ways they clung to her figure. Draco found himself staring at her legs, which looked lean and toned, and wondered how he hadn't noticed them before. He suspected she was wearing some makeup, but it was so subtly done he could scarcely pinpoint it. The whole effect was breathtaking.

"Hermione…you—you look…beautiful," Draco said, finding it difficult to speak smoothly.

Hermione blushed and smiled demurely. Suddenly she didn't feel so ridiculous in her heels and makeup anymore. "Thank you." She motioned for him to come in. Draco stepped through the doorway and headed into the kitchen to put his grocery bag down.

"What's on the menu this evening?" Hermione asked.

Draco began taking things out of the bag. "French onion soup, steamed mussels in a white wine sauce, and crème brûlée for dessert."

"Sounds fantastic," Hermione said. "And will you permit me to help you this time?"

Draco smirked in that way that made Hermione's pulse quicken. "Of course not."

Hermione put her hands on her hips and gave him a pointed look. "You've got nothing to apologize for this time."

"I seem to have forgotten to get on your bad side before tonight," Draco said impishly.

"I'm sure you could finagle something," Hermione replied. "But seriously, you have to let me help. I hate to feel like a sloth."

Draco knew that she wasn't going to give in and let him wait on her. "Well, I suppose I could let you help _a little_.

"What can I do?" Hermione asked excitedly.

Draco had to smile at her enthusiasm. He reached into the bag and pulled out a block of Parmesan cheese and a grater. "You can grate cheese for the soup."

"Gladly." Hermione took the cheese and grater and went over to her cutting board. Draco filled some pots with water and set them to boiling while he started chopping onions. He pulled out his wand and placed a charm over his face so that his eyes wouldn't tear up from the sting of the onions.

"You know if this meal doesn't come out as good as the last one I'm blaming you," Draco teased.

Hermione turned and stuck out her tongue at him.

"Cute," Draco said. He grabbed a frying pan and set the onions to simmer, then began preparing the sauce for the mussels.

"So how is it," Draco began, cutting some shallots. "That you and I have never had rounds together?"

"Oh I don't know. Maybe they didn't want too much brilliance at once," Hermione said, replying in the way she imagined Draco would if she had asked the question.

"That sounds reasonable," Draco agreed. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"I'm sure we will eventually. Though I'm not quite sure how they arrange it. I've worked with Sandrine twice already"

Hermione immediately regretted mentioning Sandrine. The last thing she wanted was for Draco to be thinking about her. She turned, wanting to see his response. Draco's face remained impassive. He did recall his exchange with her earlier in the day. It surprised him just how uninterested he had been. Yet another clue that his feelings for Hermione were stronger than he originally intended.

"I haven't worked with anyone twice yet," Draco replied. He was glad too. He wouldn't want to spend another evening with Chambers or any of the other dolts he'd been forced to work with so far.

Hermione was relieved that Draco didn't seem to care that she mentioned Sandrine. "Hopefully we'll work together soon then. I'm sure you could do with a shift where you don't have to fetch Pepperup Potions for your inept partner."

Draco grinned. "Hmm, I dunno now Granger. Wouldn't want you to make me look bad."

"It can't be avoided, I'm afraid," Hermione said airily.

Draco threw some bits of shallot at Hermione and she retaliated by tossing a bit of Parmesan at him. Only, it wasn't heavy enough to make it to his face and instead fluttered to the floor.

"Well look at the mess you've made," Draco said, tsk'ing. "I knew I shouldn't have let you in the kitchen."

Hermione took out her wand and made quick work of the cheese that had fallen on the floor. As she set her wand down, Draco noticed she had bits of shallot in her hair. He laughed and stepped in front of her.

"You've got shallot in your hair," he said, reaching out and lightly brushing it away. His hand lingered at her cheek. His thumb barely touched her skin but it felt smooth and warm. At that moment he wanted nothing more than to cup her cheek and tilt her face toward him, to place a soft kiss on her lips.

But he didn't. Draco wanted to take things slowly with Hermione. He liked her a lot, more than he had ever liked another human being. And as much as he was attracted to her, he did not want to rush anything physical. He knew it would be a mistake. Instead of doing what he really wanted, Draco let his hand drop and turned back to his work. He became very focused on adding wine to his simmering saucepan.

Hermione stared at Draco as he went back to cooking. For a moment, she had been sure that Draco was going to kiss her. She was glad that he turned away after pulling his hand back, because she didn't want him to see the look of disappointment on her face. It surprised her to learn that she wanted Draco to kiss her. Though she supposed it really shouldn't have; he was very attractive and everything about him was drawing her in more and more. She went back to grating cheese, unable to focus on anything but what it would be like to kiss him.

"I've finished the Parmesan," Hermione said, doing her best to ignore the moment that had just passed between them. "Anything else I can do?"

"I wouldn't say no to a glass of wine," Draco replied. He looked over the stove; the soup was nearing completion, and the mussels were boiling happily in their sauce. He turned to his bag and began pulling out the crème brûlée. He had prepared it ahead of time and placed a refrigeration charm on it for travel. He removed the charm and set it aside for later.

Hermione took out a set of wine glasses and filled them both. She hesitated before handing Draco his. He was bent over the stove, hair falling across his furrowed brow as he poured the soup into individual bowls, sprinkled cheese on the top and transferred it to the oven. Hermione smiled at the image.

"Here," she said, and Draco turned from the stove. He accepted the glass with a nod of thanks.

"To the French, without whom we would not have this fine cuisine," Draco said, raising his glass.

"Here, here," Hermione said, clinking her glass with Draco's.

"I can't wait until it's all done," Hermione sighed.

Draco smiled. "I'm glad you're such a fan."

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. "You're going to fatten me right up if you keep spoiling me with this cooking of yours."

"I intend to," Draco replied. "Keep spoiling you, that is."

"Good," Hermione said with a grin.

Before long, the soup was ready. Hermione picked up her wand and set the table as Draco put the finishing touches on the mussels and left them to warm. He took the soup out and made sure the crème brûlée was all right. Though she hated to feel like she wasn't contributing, she felt special for having Draco serve her. He levitated the soup over to the table.

"Careful, it's hot," Draco warned her.

A simple statement such as that might not have seemed like much, but it meant something to Hermione. She imagined that Draco had not often shown such concern for others. It made her happy to think that he was concerned with even the slight discomfort a burned tongue would bring her.

"Mm, this is marvelous," Hermione commented after trying her first spoonful.

Draco felt that familiar warmth in his chest that often appeared when he was with Hermione. "Yes, expertly grated cheese."

Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes as she enjoyed her soup. The mussels followed soon after, and Hermione found them to be even more delicious than the chicken from their previous date. Once again, she told Draco he should consider a career as a chef. Once again he considered it, if only because he got so much pleasure from seeing Hermione enjoy his cooking. Well, if being a Healer didn't work out, at least he had a career to fall back on. Though he wasn't sure how many people would visit a restaurant owned by a Malfoy at this point.

As they sat sipping their wine, waiting for dessert to finish, Draco was working up the courage to ask Hermione about something. He had been thinking about it for a while, but hadn't wanted to offend her or make her uncomfortable by bringing it up. But he felt confident that they were comfortable enough with each other to talk about it. Besides, his curiosity was getting the better of him and he didn't think he could keep his thoughts to himself much longer.

"Hermione, may I ask you something?" Draco questioned.

Hermione looked at him inquiringly. "Of course."

"Why didn't things work out between you and Weasley?"

Hermione hadn't been expecting that, but if she was honest with herself, she had assumed it would come up at some point. If her and Draco were going to date officially, then it was only natural that their past relationships would come up. Although they weren't officially dating yet, it was still a normal curiosity. Hermione had often wondered what Draco's romantic past was like.

"Well, a number of reasons I suppose," Hermione began, taking a drink. "Mostly, it was the fact that we actually got together. I think the whole reason we were attracted to one another in the first place was because of all the drama. It was all very childish."

That made sense. Weasley didn't seem like the mature type. He remembered how the two of them were constantly at one another's throats. "How long were you two together for?" he asked.

"Oh, not even a year," Hermione replied. "It didn't take us very long to realize that we were better off as friends."

"Was that awkward? Being friends after breaking up?"

"At first. We fought perhaps more than ever. But things returned to normal after a while. Harry helped a lot."

Draco hesitated before asking his next question. It was one he feared the answer to. "Do you ever think that maybe…you and Weasley will get back together?"

Hermione almost laughed. Of course she had thought about it at first, but she soon realized it would never work out. "No, certainly not. I think we needed to date for a while just to get it out of our systems. And now we know better."

Draco was relieved, but he didn't show it. He was satisfied with knowing she no longer had any romantic interest in Weasley. Though she couldn't imagine why she would have in the first place. But that was a different story. Another thought struck him suddenly.

"Whatever happened with you and Viktor Krum? I seem to remember you attending the Yule Ball with him fourth year."

"Well of course I was too in love with Ron to date Viktor. We kept in touch for a while, but I haven't heard from him in some time. He really was a lovely person."

Draco felt a little twinge of jealousy towards Krum. Hermione had dated an international Quidditch superstar. He couldn't help but feel slightly inadequate. But the feeling quickly passed. Krum was no longer in the picture.

"Any other sordid affairs? Aside from Chambers, of course."

Hermione let that one pass. "No, I must say my dating history is rather dull. But what about you? You had all the Slytherin girls and a fair few more chasing after you at Hogwarts."

It was true Draco had his share of female admirers, but he had never really been interested in them for more than their looks, money, or how much they would fawn over him. And since graduating, he had barely even spoken to anyone, let alone to date them. He was rather embarrassed to admit it, actually.

"I suppose you could say Pansy Parkinson and I dated, regrettably. I entertained brief flirtations with several girls, but it was never serious."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "And just who were you never serious with?"

Draco smirked. He didn't know why, but he liked that he detected a hint of jealousy in her tone. "Daphne Greengrass, Lisa Turpin, Eleanor Branstone. Astoria Greengrass too, although that sure did tick off Daphne…"

"No Gryffindors, I see," Hermione noted. "Though you didn't seem to discriminate between the other houses."

"Of course not. No respectable Slytherin would date a Gryffindor."

"Of course not," Hermione repeated, a slight smile playing at her lips.

"Come to think of it, you should probably take down that Gryffindor banner in your living room. It's an affront to my delicate Slytherin sensibilities."

Hermione chuckled. "Not likely."

"Oh well, I'll just have to remove it when you're not looking," Draco said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him as she sipped her wine. Draco took up his wand and with a flick, caused the crème brûlée to soar over to the table. He added a sprinkling of sugar to each dish, and then with another flick of his wand, lit them on fire in order to caramelize the topping. When he was finished, Draco handed Hermione a spoon and pushed her dish towards her. Hermione cracked the caramelized sugar and took a bite of the sweet dessert. It was delicious. She couldn't tell if she enjoyed this or the chocolate soufflé more. If that was the hardest decision she ever had to make, then she would be more than happy.

"Is the crème brûlée satisfactory enough for you to forgive my less than spotless dating record?"

Hermione tapped her chin, as if thinking very hard about it. She sighed dramatically. "Oh I _guess_," she answered. "Though you might have to make me more desserts to completely make up for it."

"I can live with that," Draco said.

They enjoyed their desserts in relative silence. Hermione was beginning to feel like a glutton, but it was hard to carry on a conversation when all she wanted to do was devour the amazing food before her.

"So," Draco began, after they'd finished eating and he'd magicked all the dishes away. (Except the wine, of course.) "Do Potter and Weasley know yet?"

Hermione shook her head. She still didn't feel it was the right time to bring up the possibility that her and Draco Malfoy were something more than friends. "I've told Ginny, though."

"You don't think she'll spill to Potter?"

"No, Ginny's a bright girl. She knows better than that."

Draco thought for a moment. He wasn't sure if it bothered him that Hermione hadn't told her two best friends about their dates. Reason told him that it was wise to wait, because it was not something they would take lightly. But a part of him wanted her to tell them, get it all out in the open. He didn't want Hermione to be ashamed of dating him. Though he didn't think that was the case.

"I suppose it's Weasley you're most worried about."

"Yes. He's known to be irrational from time to time."

"That's an understatement if I've ever heard one."

"I'm sure he'd come around…eventually." Although, Hermione wasn't entirely sure. But she figured a little optimism couldn't hurt.

"Perhaps I should be the one to break the news. Soften the blow."

Hermione laughed. "Oh yes, that would go over _so _well."

Draco grinned. "Well, I do want to see the look on his face. I have a feeling it will be absolutely priceless."

"Undoubtedly. You can hide in a shrub or something."

"Malfoys do _not_ hide in shrubs. Our clothes are too expensive."

"Well then don't blame me when a poorly executed curse comes flying in your general direction."

"I'm confident that you will protect me."

Hermione laughed. "I'll consider it."

"You're lucky I don't have any overprotective female friends to give you the what-for."

"Yes, but I suppose Sandrine might give me some trouble," Hermione said, without really even thinking about it.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sandrine? Why would she be a problem?"

Hermione wished she hadn't said anything. "Well, I think she's got her eye on you. She told me she thought you were very handsome."

"Is that all? I'd be surprised if everyone hadn't noticed _that_," Draco said.

"She also asked if you had a girlfriend," Hermione added.

"Oh? And what did you tell her?" Draco was curious to see how Hermione had responded.

"I said not exactly…but she didn't really give me a chance to explain. But I told her that she could talk to whoever she wants, and so could you."

"I see." Draco had to admit he was hoping Hermione had made some sort of claim on him to Sandrine. He wanted her to feel as strongly as he was feeling for her. But he understood if she hadn't progressed to that point yet. He couldn't blame her. "Well, she did approach me, but I think I made it clear I wasn't interested in her."

"Why not?" Hermione asked quickly.

"Don't you know? I'm already on a date with the smartest and most beautiful witch in the class. What do I need her for?" Draco replied with a grin. He hadn't even dreamed that Hermione would worry about another girl stealing his affections, but he found it pleased him to learn of it. Her slight insecurity seemed to suggest that she had feelings for him that ran deeper than the surface.

Hermione smiled, and could feel a warm blush creeping across her cheeks. Draco always seemed to know the right thing to say.

"What are your plans for next weekend, then?" Hermione asked, feeling emboldened.

"I had none, until now," Draco replied. "But it seems I have a date."

"And what will you be doing on this date?"

"Oh, I think it will be a surprise," Draco said slyly.

Hermione immediately felt excited. She knew that Draco would plan something spectacular. But she kept her composure. "A surprise hmm? Well what should I wear?" Ever practical, Hermione wanted to be sure she was dressed properly for whatever occasion arose.

"Something…comfortable," Draco said, though not giving anything away. "As much as I would enjoy seeing you in those again," He looked down at her legs and shoes appreciatively. "I don't think they'll do."

Hermione smiled at the compliment, and nodded. "I'll keep that in mind."

Draco's mind was already buzzing with ideas for the following weekend. He had a general idea of what he wanted to do, and different things kept springing up. It was sure to be fun. He was confident that Hermione would enjoy herself, and that's what really mattered the most to him.

He happened to glance over at the clock on the stove, and realized it was getting quite late. The time seemed to slip by unnoticed whenever he was with Hermione. He was sure she had plans the next day, and he didn't want to keep her up all night. Well, in truth, he did, but he was also a gentleman.

"Well I suppose I should be heading home. It's past your bed time."

Hermione smirked. "Well shame on you for keeping me up."

"I'm just going to have to make it up to you, once again," Draco said.

"Indeed. I'll expect some sort of gift basket."

Draco smiled. "Only the finest, for you."

They both stood up from the table. Draco pulled his coat on and gathered his things, tucking them under one arm. Hermione sighed to herself, wishing that the night could have gone on longer. There didn't seem to be enough hours in the day sometimes. She followed Draco out into the living room, suddenly becoming anxious about what might happen as they said goodnight.

Yet again, Draco hesitated at the door. He looked at Hermione, not wanting to take his eyes off of her in order to go home. And like earlier in the kitchen, Draco felt the overwhelming urge to kiss her. But instead of simply kissing her hand like he had the week before, Draco took a step closer to her. Hermione looked up at Draco, realizing just how tall he was. (Or how short she was, for that matter.) Even in heels, she only came up to around his chin. She looked up into his eyes: cool, gray, and unreadable as usual. But they were also piercing in their directness. Her pulse quickened. Her brain screamed at her, telling her that this was the moment that Draco was going to kiss her. She froze on the spot, unable to move or speak.

Draco knew this was the moment to kiss her, but he held himself back. Not yet, he told himself. He wanted the moment to be absolutely perfect. Not that any kiss with Hermione wouldn't be perfect, but he wanted it to be even more than that—magical. Somehow he knew that Hermione would appreciate that. He reached his hand out and traced his fingers through her hair, and along her jaw line. Her skin was smooth, inviting. Slowly, he bent down and kissed her softly on the cheek. He savored every moment that his lips met with her skin. If he could be this close to Hermione all the time, breathing in the scent of her hair, feeling the soft rhythm of her pulse, he would be a happy man.

Hermione was breathless. Draco's gentle touch made her heart race and her mind scramble. The slow movement of his hand past her cheek and jaw made the back of her knees feel weak. When he kissed her cheek, she thought she might faint on the spot. It was all too wonderful. She realized at that moment that kiss had been perfect for the moment. As much as she wanted more, she knew that Draco had made the right move. She found it difficult to collect her thoughts. And that after just a kiss on the cheek! Hermione's mind wandered to several impure possibilities.

When Draco pulled away from Hermione, he thought he saw something like desire smoldering in her eyes. Seeing this ignited a desire of his own. He knew that he had to leave quickly; otherwise he was not going to be held responsible for his actions. The impulse to sweep Hermione into his arms and march into the bedroom was too strong to be fought for any significant length of time. The effect her simple gaze was having on his was disarming.

"Well, goodnight then," Draco said huskily.

"Goodnight, Draco," Hermione replied, her voice low.

The combination of Hermione saying his name and the sultry tone of her voice was almost enough to keep him from leaving. With all the self-control he could muster, Draco broke eye contact with Hermione and closed the door behind him. He lingered a moment in the hallway, trying to slow his breathing before moving on. It was going to be very difficult _not _to kiss Hermione on their next date. He smiled then, realizing that he was already thinking ahead to their next date, even if it was unplanned. He enjoyed every minute with her, and how she seemed to make all of his worries disappear. He feared to think how he would have handled his father's death had she not been in his life. Instead of being on top of the world and skipping down the staircase, he'd likely be drunk or passed out on the cold stone floor of his library. But now was not the time to dwell on such dark thoughts. Draco breathed in the crisp night air and Apparated home in the best of spirits.

Back inside, Hermione had removed her heels and sank into the couch. Her head was swimming with the events that had just occurred. She had never been more attracted to someone as she was to Draco. Everything about him appealed to her. She couldn't fathom how she had once loathed the very idea of him, when now she was dying for him to kiss her. She summoned herself a glass of wine from the kitchen. Absently, she touched her cheek where Draco has kissed her. _Oh, am I in trouble_, Hermione thought to herself. As someone who strove for control in all aspects of her life, she could feel herself falling quickly.

*****

Once again, Hermione found herself sitting in the living room of the Burrow, waiting for Ginny to return with a tray of tea. She wondered if this would become somewhat of a tradition. As she couldn't talk to Ron or Harry yet, she needed an outlet. Her date with Draco had been nothing short of wonderful, and there was no way she could keep it all to herself. Plus, she knew that Ginny would have pestered her until she divulged every detail anyway.

"Let's hear it!" Ginny exclaimed as she returned. "I want to know _everything_."

"Of course you do," Hermione replied, grabbing a biscuit from the tray Ginny had set down.

"Well?" Ginny pressed impatiently as Hermione chewed.

"Well everything was perfectly lovely. The food was superb, the conversation was great. I think Draco appreciated the heels, so thank you for forcing them upon me."

"You're welcome," Ginny said with a self-satisfied smirk. "How about after dinner? Was there a kiss this time?"

Hermione sighed. "Well, there was _almost _one while we were cooking. At least, I think so. But it seemed like he pulled back."

Ginny frowned. "I hope he's not a prude."

"I don't think so. He's dated a fair few witches."

"That oaf Parkinson? I hardly think she counts," Ginny scoffed.

"Several others too, I'm afraid. But that doesn't matter. They didn't mean anything to him."

Ginny nodded hear head knowingly. "So that was it then? An _almost _kiss?"

"Well…not exactly." Ginny perked up noticeably. "He kissed me on the cheek when we said goodnight." Ginny's excited expression was quickly replaced by disappointment.

"A kiss on the cheek? How pedestrian."

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was wonderful actually. Sweet and perfect."

Ginny looked skeptical. "If you say so Hermione."

At that moment, Ron came striding into the living room, and plopped himself down in a chair. He grabbed a biscuit and stuffed it into his mouth unceremoniously.

"What're you talking about? Something sweet?" he asked, chewing loudly. Ginny wrinkled her nose.

Hermione stared at Ginny, relying on her to make up something convincing. She was much better at coming up with a glib excuse on the fly. Hermione found it difficult to lie, even when it behooved her to do so.

"Just some fancy French dessert Hermione had the other day. Sounds like St. Mungo's has expanded their dining options," Ginny lied smoothly. Hermione wanted to hug her.

"Sounds pretty good," Ron said, finally swallowing.

Hermione felt bad lying to Ron, but she figured it would be the best way for a while. Though each time she saw Draco and spent time with him, she became a little surer that this was no passing fancy. Still, it seemed premature to let Ron in on it until it was something more official.

"Fancy a game of Quidditch?" Ron asked. "Harry should be by in a bit. He just popped by Andromeda's to visit Teddy."

"I'm in," Ginny said. "But we might have to find someone else, too. You know Hermione doesn't like to play."

"She's right," Hermione assented.

"Yeah, you are pretty dreadful," Ron said. Hermione looked indignant, but she knew it was really the truth. "But we've got no one else, so it looks like you'll have to."

Hermione sighed. "Oh fine. But I'm being Keeper."

Ron grinned. "Right. I'll go find you a broom to use."

He left the room, and Hermione and Ginny shared a look of relief.

"That could have been disastrous," Ginny said.

"You're telling me. Quick thinking, Ginny."

Ginny nodded. "Before Ron comes back, is there anything else that happened? Did he ask you out again?"

"We've got plans for next weekend. But it's a surprise."

"How exciting!" Ginny said happily. "As much as this seems completely and totally wrong to say, I think Malfoy _really_ likes you."

Hermione smiled widely. "I think so, too."

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**A/N:** Chapter title comes from the song "Glycerine" by Bush. Inspired by the opening lyrics: "_Must be your skin that I'm sinking in, must be for real 'cause now I can feel."_


	12. What Hurts the Most

**A/N: **Hey everyone, I'm so sorry this update took so long! I've been swamped with work. If only I could drop out and get paid to write fanfiction for a living. The next update is likely to be a couple weeks as well. I won't have much free time until my Thanksgiving break. But fear not, I will not abandon this story. And this chapter is a bit longer than usual, to try and make up for my slacking. ;) All your reviews for the last chapter were lovely and made me all warm and fuzzy inside. I hope you enjoy this next part as the plot thickens! :)

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**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

What Hurts the Most

A figure swathed in dark robes strode purposefully down the hall. The heavy footsteps resounded, sending up puffs of dust with each step. A scornful scoff could be heard coming from the figure, who was clearly unimpressed with the dingy abode. The paper was peeling from the walls, and the scurrying footsteps of various rodents could be heard frequently. The floorboards creaked and the framework swelled with the years of water damage they had sustained. The musty smell of decay and mildew was almost overpowering. It seemed as if one strong gust of wind could send the whole building toppling over. Yet, the figure walked on, knowing that if all went according to plan, these surroundings would be only temporary. The lone person reached a door at the end of the long hall, and rapped firmly on the rotting wood.

"Come in," called a voice from within.

The robed figure reached for the knob and turned it, pushing the door open and entering the room beyond. It was dimly lit by a few guttering candles on wall sconces. A young man sat behind a dilapidated desk, sifting through a few sheets of parchment. He too wore dark robes, the hood pulled up so that it cast a shadow over his features.. The man looked up, his eyes empty and cold. He pushed back his hood, revealing an annoyed expression. His lip curled cruelly.

"You're late," the man observed coolly.

"I apologize," came a distinctly feminine voice from beneath the dark hood. She too pushed her hood back, shaking her hair so that it feel loosely around her shoulders.

"No matter," he said, putting his papers aside. "You have news for me, I trust?"

The woman hesitated before speaking. "Things are not going as you planned, I'm afraid."

Anger flashed in the man's dark eyes. He looked as though he was about to yell, but thought better of it. He took a breath before addressing the woman. "I know that his father's death has not affected him nearly as much as we anticipated," he said evenly, clearly straining to control his voice.

The woman nodded, silently grateful that he hadn't screamed at her. His temper was known to flare up from time to time. "I know."

"And your efforts to get closer to him?"

The woman shifted nervously. "Unsuccessful."

The displeasure showed in the man's expression, but again he retained his composure. "Obviously you have not put forth enough effort."

"I don't think he is interested."

"You'll just have to _make_ him interested. I assigned you this job for a reason."

"I know. But I think he appears to be smitten with someone else."

"Oh?" the man raised his eyebrow.

"Hermione Granger."

The man laughed mirthlessly. "You must be mistaken."

The woman shook her head. "They work together. From what I've seen, they appear to be close."

The man did not appear concerned. "I'm sure it's nothing serious. You will just have to work harder, won't you?"

The woman nodded again. "Of course," she agreed. She resolved to double her efforts. "But aren't there…other measures that can be taken?"

"Naturally," the man replied. "We will be discussing that at the meeting later this evening."

"Will everyone be there?" the woman questioned.

"They'd better be."

The woman looked as though she was working herself up to say something. It seemed like she struggled for a moment before speaking. "There is one person who does not seem committed. I sometimes worry—"

"I know who you are talking about," the man said, cutting her off. "Don't trouble yourself with questioning her. I have known her almost my entire life, and I assure you she will be no issue."

He said this with such finality that it left the woman no choice but to acquiesce. "I trust your judgment."

"Good. Now let's head downstairs and prepare for the meeting. They should be arriving soon."

The man stood up from his chair, and the woman followed suit. He crossed the length of room that separated them, looking down at her. He seized her arm and pulled her into him. She stiffened, and he kissed her forcefully. She did not pull away until he released her from his grip.

"I know you have it in you, my dear," the man said in a low voice. "You better not disappoint me."

The woman swallowed and nodded slowly. "I won't," she said quietly.

"Good."

The man turned and walked out of the room, leaving no question that the woman should follow him out. She pulled her hood back over her head and trailed after her companion.

*****

Draco was in a cheerful mood. His mind refused to stray from thoughts of Hermione, but Draco didn't mind that. Thinking of her the entire weekend had lifted his spirits considerably. No negative thoughts could penetrate the haze of his euphoria. He felt that the cold stone of his mansion could not contain him comfortably, so he decided to take a trip to Hogsmeade. He wanted to get something for Hermione. He immediately thought of Diagon Alley, but quickly dismissed the idea due to the high likelihood of running into Pansy or Theo. He had Apparated from his home, and appeared at the end of the road that led into Hogsmeade village. He strolled leisurely, savoring the briskness of the air and how it only added to his good mood.

As Draco entered the village proper, he couldn't help but think everyone was staring at him because he could hardly keep himself from smiling. For once, he didn't really care to control his facial expression. He was happy and it didn't bother him for random passersby to notice that. Even if he saw someone he knew from his school days, he wasn't particularly concerned.

Draco thought about what Hermione might like for a gift, and he naturally came to the conclusion that Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop would be a good place to look. He entered the shop, which smelled strongly of parchment, and thought of how Hermione must enjoy that scent. He browsed aimlessly, trying to find something that was appropriate. It seemed too soon for a very serious or expensive gift, although money was really no object. He figured she already had plenty of quills and parchment; he couldn't imagine she ever let herself run out of such things. He settled on a special quill attachment called "Forget-Me-Not" that followed your train of thought so that you could pick up right where you left off.

After he paid the cashier, Draco decided to swing by the Three Broomsticks for a drink. He settled in a table near the back of the pub. Despite his good mood, he knew that he could potentially be brought down by the blatant and rude stares of random witches and wizards. He ordered a butterbeer, deciding that his usual firewhisky was unnecessary. The drink came promptly, and Draco sat sipping it as he contemplated the date he had planned for him and Hermione the following weekend. He was brimming with ideas, but he didn't want to expend them all at once. He found himself planning several dates in the future, and smiled to himself.

Suddenly, Draco heard voices he recognized. He looked up to see Potter and Weasley making their way across the Three Broomsticks. Hastily, Draco pulled his hood up so that it concealed his face, and turned so that he wouldn't be easily spotted. He didn't know what made him do it, but he felt it was better to remain incognito than to have a confrontation with the two of them. Potter and Weasley sat at a table not far from where Draco was seated, and he silently cursed his luck. Hopefully they wouldn't stick around long; Draco wanted to wait until they left to get up himself, lest he draw too much attention.

Draco discovered that he could quite clearly hear Potter and Weasley speaking. He found the urge to eavesdrop irresistible. The two ordered their drinks and talked idly about Quidditch and work for several minutes. After their drinks arrive, they were silent for a few moments while enjoying the beverages. After this, their conversation turned to a topic that peaked Draco's interest.

"Do you reckon Hermione's been acting strange lately?" Weasley asked.

"I don't think so," Potter replied. Draco could tell he was lying. Apparently Hermione wasn't the only one who tried to spare Weasley's feelings.

"She seems…distracted, you know? I mean we hardly see her, and when we do, it seems like she's…hiding something."

"How do you mean?" Potter asked.

"I dunno. Like last weekend, her and Ginny seemed like they had some sort of secret between them."

Draco rolled his eyes. Weasley was pretty dull, but apparently he caught onto a few things.

"That's just girl stuff, Ron. I wouldn't get too worked up over it."

They were silent for a few more moments. Draco mechanically put his drink to his lips, but found he was uninterested in drinking it. All he was concerned with for the moment was where Potter and Weasley's conversation was going. He had a feeling that he was about to enter into the equation. He was both curious and worried. It seemed fairly obvious what Weasley would say, but he was curious to see how Potter would react. He found that at the same time, he was worried about what Potter had to say. It troubled him a bit to discover that Potter's opinion would affect him, if only because it meant a lot to Hermione.

"I think it has something to do with Malfoy," Weasley said finally. That was exactly what Draco had been waiting to hear. He resisted the urge to scoff loudly.

"Why would you say that?" Potter asked.

"It all started once they became friends, or whatever," Weasley said darkly. "I think there's something _else_ going on."

"You mean romantically?"

Silence. Draco assumed that Weasley had nodded or made some other gesture.

"Don't be silly," Potter said. "Sure they might be friends, but I don't think Hermione would ever _date_ Malfoy." Draco winced slightly. There was a harshness in Potter's tone that Draco would have to admit he did not expect. He had a shred of hope that Potter would be more understanding. He took a legitimate sip of butterbeer to calm himself, and continued listening.

"I'm not so sure, Harry. I have my suspicions."

"I think you're being paranoid."

"Maybe so. But can you imagine? If Hermione really was dating Malfoy…I don't know what I would do." Draco clenched his jaw. He would love to hear what Weasley would do, and then jump up and curse every single idea out of his pea-brain. But he remained seated.

"It would be bloody strange, that's for sure."

"It would be worse than that. I don't even know if I could look at Hermione knowing she was shagging Malfoy." Real mature, Draco thought.

"Merlin Ron, why would you even say that?"

"I'm just saying, I don't know if I could even be friends with Hermione anymore if she was dating _him_."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" For once, Draco agreed with Potter.

"Not really. I couldn't think of her the same anymore. I mean think about it—it's _Malfoy_!" Draco's hands were balling into fists. He wanted to strangle Weasley. He didn't even know how Hermione could stand him. But he was one of her best friends, and he knew that pounding him into a bloody pulp in the middle of the Three Broomsticks would not please her.

"You're getting way to far ahead of yourself, mate. We don't even know that they're dating."

"Are you saying it wouldn't bother you?"

"It would take some getting used to, of course. But like I said, I don't think Hermione would date him. There's too much of a bad past there." If only Potter knew that his dear friend had spent the past two weekends having a romantic dinner with him, Draco Malfoy. He'd like to see the look on his face as he prepared to eat his words.

"Malfoy's a sneaky git, I'm sure he could come up with a good sob story."

"I suppose."

"Really I just want what's best for Hermione. We should have a talk with her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid." Draco's grip tightened around his bottle of butterbeer. He thought that nothing would be able to bring down his mood today, but he was wrong. Listening to Weasley talk had made him steadily angrier. Yet his respect and care for Hermione had kept him in his seat. Although, he didn't know how much longer that would last. There was only so much Draco could take before his temper got the best of him.

"I don't really think we need to talk with her. She's an adult, she can make her own decisions."

"I thought you'd agree with me on this, Harry. I know you believe Malfoy's changed or whatever, but still. It's our best friend we're talking about."

They were silent for a moment. Draco contemplated getting up and leaving, but he was too curious to hear Potter's response. He shifted in his seat, anxious to hear what would come next. He'd never been much of an eavesdropper, but this conversation involved him too much to simply pass over.

"Ron, have you considered that maybe you're so upset about this because you still have feelings for Hermione?" Harry asked very calmly. Draco's heart skipped a beat. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it wasn't that. The sound of his heart pounding threatened to drown out their voices.

It took Weasley a while to respond. Draco assumed that he had turned red in the face and that he was furiously drinking his butterbeer to cover up the truth. A bad feeling began growing in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted desperately for Weasley to deny it.

"I dunno what you're talking about Harry…" Weasley mumbled. It seemed as though Draco's fears were confirmed.

"C'mon Ron. You can't fool me. I know you too well."

"Is it that obvious? I mean, do you reckon she knows?"

"Hermione's brilliant and not much gets past her. But I don't think you've done much to give it away."

There was another brief silence before Potter spoke again.

"You…don't want to get back together, do you?"

"'Course I would. But I don't think she does. I'm sure she's completely moved on."

Draco tried to comfort himself recalling that Hermione had told him that she would never get back together with Weasley. But he still felt unsettled. Hermione and Weasley had a lot of history. Who's to say she wasn't just trying to make him feel better? Draco could feel paranoia and suspicion creeping up on him. Maybe if Hermione knew that Weasley still had feelings for her, she would change her mind. What had started out as such a good day was declining rapidly. Draco took it as a sign that he was not allowed to be in a good mood for long, or the universe would quickly rectify its mistake.

"Well I'm not going to get your hopes up, mate. She hasn't said anything to me about even considering getting back together with you."

"I figured," Weasley said glumly. "It's just…I always thought we would end up together, you know?" Hearing that made Draco feel uncomfortable, because he too always assumed that the two of them were meant to be. Now that it was him dating Hermione, that wasn't something he wanted to hear.

"I know," Potter assured his friend. "But sometimes things just don't work out the way we plan them."

"D'you think maybe I should talk to her about it?"

There was a pause. Draco found that he was holding his breath waiting for Potter's response.

"I don't know Ron…it could be really awkward. Maybe you should just be casual about it. Or find out what you can from Ginny. But don't tell her I told you to do it."

Weasley seemed to consider these words before speaking again. "I just want another chance, I guess. I feel like I mucked it up last time, and we never got to really be together. I know it could have been better. I could have been better. "

Potter didn't say anything, but Draco's heart sank. The raw emotion of Weasley's words and his tone struck him. It was clear that Weasley had intense feelings for Hermione, and Draco couldn't blame him. She was wonderful. Weasley had known this for years, whereas Draco was just discovering it for himself now. And as much as he thought Weasley was a prat, he felt like he ought to have his second chance. Draco felt a lump rising in his throat. He wanted to be with Hermione more than anything in the world, but he also didn't want to deprive her of something (or someone) that could make her happy. He didn't know where his sudden empathy for Weasley was coming from, considering the redheaded git had just bad-mouthed him for the past 20 minutes, but there it was.

"Maybe you're right, Ron. Maybe Hermione should hear that from you."

Potter saying that seemed like a nail in the coffin to Draco. He didn't want to give Hermione up, but admittedly they weren't seriously dating yet. Although he had given a lot of thought to that, he didn't know if it was what Hermione wanted. He thought so, but he wasn't sure. And if Weasley was going to be vying for her affections, he thought maybe it would be best to step down. If this had been years ago, Draco would have shown no regard for anyone else's feelings and done what he wanted. But he felt that things had changed, and that being a selfish prick just wasn't right anymore.

He didn't want to hear anymore. He pulled his hood further over his face and stood up from his table. As he exited the pub, he heard Weasley murmuring about how he thought Hermione was probably the only woman he would ever love. Draco couldn't take it. He walked out as briskly as he could without drawing attention to himself. Once he was back out in the street, he took deep, gulping breaths. The cold air filled his lungs and only marginally helped to clear his muddled thoughts. He walked to the end of the road and Apparated away from Hogsmeade.

Once he was back at home, the gloom of his manor combined with his mood made him depressed in a way he hadn't felt since the night he found out his father died. Draco didn't even have the energy to pour himself a glass of firewhisky. He trudged upstairs to his bedroom and collapsed despondently onto his bed. He hoped that falling asleep would at least temporarily relieve him of all the troubles swirling around his head.

*****

Hermione couldn't stop smiling as she waited for Draco to appear in the seat behind her in class on Monday morning. She had just checked the schedule and discovered that they finally had rounds together that evening. She didn't think he knew yet, so she was excited to spill the news. Edwin kept glancing over at her, but he didn't ask why she seemed to be in such a good mood. When the door swung open, she turned around reflexively, and felt her stomach leap when she saw that familiar cool gray gaze from across the room. As Draco approached, Hermione noticed that he looked slightly distressed. She hoped nothing bad had happened over the rest of the weekend.

"Are you all right?" she whispered so that her other classmates wouldn't over hear.

Draco sat in his seat. He looked Hermione in the eye, and felt like her honest and concerned expression would cause his heart to burst. "I'm fine," he said as impassively as possible. It hurt him to lie to her, but he felt like it was the right thing for him to do.

Hermione didn't believe him. There was clearly something wrong, but Healer Blarney was about to start class. She decided she would approach him at lunch. She turned around reluctantly, wondering what was bothering him. It was possible he had run into Pansy Parkinson or Theodore Nott again, which she could understand would put him in a bad mood. And his father had passed away not too long ago, so it could be related to that. Hermione tried not to let herself get nervous that it had anything to do with her. That seemed rather self-centered anyway.

Draco could not focus on the lecture at all. His mind was wracked with thoughts of what he was going to say to Hermione. He had spent the rest of the weekend debating it, and he knew it was for the best to let her and Weasley figure things out. She deserved that much. But he had no idea how to go about bringing it up. He didn't want to hurt her, but he couldn't help but think that was the only way. When lunchtime came around, Draco was feeling distinctly nervous. He knew that Hermione would be expecting to sit with him. And he knew that she was going to question him about his bad mood. There was really no way to avoid it now. She turned to him inquiringly, and he met her eyes with what he knew to be a sad look. He hated to see sadness filling her eyes as she registered his gaze.

They walked to lunch in silence. Hermione could sense there was some tension between them and she couldn't figure out why. They got their lunches and sat at their usual table, eating for a few minutes without saying anything to one another. Finally, Hermione had had enough. She couldn't take the oppressive silence any longer. Draco sighed, knowing that the inevitable was coming.

"Draco, tell me what's wrong." It wasn't a question.

Draco could tell that she was only interested in a direct answer. "Nothing is wrong, really. I just…have to cancel our date this weekend. Something came up." Draco immediately felt like a piece of scum.

A wave of disappointment washed over Hermione. She had been looking forward to her surprise date intently. Her face fell, and she knew there was no way she could keep Draco from seeing that in her expression. She didn't even try to conceal it. "Oh," she replied, forcing a weak smile. "Well, maybe next week then."

Draco swallowed hard. This was it. "I don't think that's a good idea," he said in a flat, dead tone of voice. He could barely bring himself to say these things. "

Hermione could feel a lump rising in her throat. She didn't know what had changed, only that something had. She wouldn't allow herself to cry. It hurt, and she didn't know what had happened to change his mind. The last she knew he was very much interested in her, but she supposed that they weren't all that serious to begin with. Although, she couldn't deny she wanted to know why.

"I see. Did something…happen?"

Draco's heart was pounding. He wished he had planned what he was going to say better. He found it extremely difficult to lie to Hermione. "I just think it's for the best if we end this before anyone gets hurt. I'm not interested in a relationship. I don't want to lead you on." Draco had to control his voice with expert precision to keep it from wavering. The coldness in is tone even made him want to shudder.

Hermione swallowed as hard as possible to keep the lump in her throat from turning into a sob. She still didn't understand, but she didn't want to argue. If he wasn't interested in a relationship, there was nothing she could do. She had to admit that was where she was hoping this would lead. She looked down at her food. Suddenly, she felt herself growing irrationally angry. What had he been doing all this time, if he never planned on their—whatever their "relationship" was—going anywhere? She looked up sharply.

"So you were just using me to keep you company until you'd had enough? Tried having a friend, or maybe something more, and got tired of it?"

The anger in Hermione's voice made Draco want to take back everything he'd said and apologize. He didn't know if he could keep it up. "It's not like that…"

"Then what is it?" Hermione demanded.

"Like I said, I'm not interested in a relationship," Draco repeated coldly.

"Fine," Hermione said harshly.

She no longer wished to sit at the same table as Draco. In fact, she didn't want to look at him at all. A mixture of anger and sadness threatened to consume her. She stood up abruptly. "Well, I'll try and stay out of your way during our rounds tonight," she snapped as she turned on her heel and marched away. She stormed off to the library for the rest of the lunch period. It was the only place that offered her any solace in a time of crisis. She couldn't focus on reading anything, but just being there helped to calm her a little.

Draco felt absolutely terrible. On top of it all, he and Hermione finally had rounds together, tonight of all nights. He knew there was no way to get around it, and he dreaded it already. Seeing the return of an all too familiar hatred in Hermione's eyes stung more than anything he had ever experienced. His appetite was completely gone, so he got up and threw out the rest of his lunch. He returned to the classroom early, and sat in glum silence until the class filed back in. He couldn't even bring himself to look at Hermione as she took her customary seat in front of him.

*****

It was almost time for her shift to begin. Hermione sat in the library of St. Mungos, agonizing over the next several hours she was going to be forced to endure. It was as if the past few months hadn't happened at all, and things were back to the way they were at Hogwarts—Hermione dreading ever coming face to face with Draco. She looked up at the clock and sighed; she couldn't avoid him any longer. Hermione packed up her things and reluctantly headed down to the Trainee lounge where the two on duty normally met up for the evening.

Draco too was counting down the minutes until his shift with Hermione, hoping it wouldn't be as awkward and uncomfortable as he anticipated it would be. He was sitting in the Trainee lounge, knowing that even if Hermione hated him now, she would still be on time. And so she stepped through the door, right on time down to the second. He looked at her as she walked in, feeling a horrible pang in his stomach at the glare she was giving him. His impulse was to jump up and pull her tightly into his embrace and beg for her forgiveness. But he knew that he couldn't.

"I figured we could divide the wards so that we won't have to patrol together," Hermione said clinically.

Draco nodded. "I suppose that makes sense."

"I'll take the first three floors. You can take the other two."

"Right."

"Healer Collins is on duty tonight. We're to report to him in two hours."

Draco nodded again. "Very well."

Hermione looked at him for a moment longer, then spun on her heel and left the room. She strode down the hall toward the Dai Lewellyn ward, fighting with the tears that threatened to sting her eyes. She would not allow herself to cry. It made her feel weak, and that was not a feeling she liked to experience. She shook her head, as if the physical act of it would help clear her mind.

Draco had the overwhelming urge to conjure himself a strong drink, but he suppressed the impulse. He instead got up and headed down the hall towards the third floor, where he would spend most of his time patrolling in order to ensure that he wouldn't run into Hermione. It was too painful to deal with seeing her. But he knew it was for the best. She deserved someone who could give himself wholly to her, and Draco just didn't feel that he was good enough. He tried to push these thoughts away as he walked apathetically through the halls.

Draco hadn't realized how much time had passed while he was thinking about such melancholy things and wandering aimlessly. Nothing had been required of him thus far, and he was sure he had made laps of the third floor numerous times. He looked up at a clock, realizing it was almost time to meet with Healer Collins. He changed his course to make his way toward the appropriate staircase. Suddenly, a figure crossed his path.

"Why 'allo Draco," Sandrine said.

He hadn't even noticed her approach. "Hello," he replied dully.

"Rounds tonight?" she questioned, arching a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Draco nodded. "Yeah. Why're you here? Hermione's the other on rounds tonight."

Sandrine flipped a sheaf of blonde hair behind her shoulder. "Oh just working on a project in ze lab. Actually, I was hoping zat you could help me with somezing?"

Draco didn't know what he could possibly help Sandrine with, or why she would ask him for help in the first place, but he motioned for her to go on.

She smiled widely. "Well, I am just working on a small project about ze Vanishing Sickness, and I noticed in class zat you seemed very knowledgeable about it. Would you come look at my research? Eet iz just in ze lab down ze hall."

Draco shrugged. "I have to meet Healer Collins shortly, but I suppose I could take a look."

Sandrine smiled again. "Tres bon! Follow me."

Sandrine led him down the hall to a lab he knew to be on the floor. She opened the door and ushered him inside, shutting it behind her. Draco looked around. There didn't appear to be any lab materials or even books or medical journals out on the lab tables. He turned to face Sandrine, an inquiring look on his face. She had her back to the door and was slowly removing her lime-green robes.

"Sandrine…what…?"

A sly smile curved her lips. "It seems I forgot to bring ze research with me zis evening. Oh well…I suppose zere are ozzer things you could…'elp me with."

She slipped her robes off her shoulders and stepped out of them, revealing a very skimpy dress. It was a deep sapphire blue, and left very little to the imagination. Draco swallowed hard. He didn't know why Sandrine was coming onto him, and normally he would have been enticed by such a thing. But his mind was still consumed with thoughts of Hermione.

"Sandrine…I'm sorry, but I'm not interested—"

"Shh," she cut him off. She sauntered across the room and stopped in front of Draco. She lightly pushed him back, up against the lab table. She trailed a finger down his chest. "You don't 'ave to be a gentleman, Draco. Zis does not 'ave to be somezing serious."

Draco gripped Sandrine's wrist and looked her directly in the eyes. "Listen, Sandrine. I'm not interested in _that_ either."

She pouted, undoubtedly used to getting whatever she wanted with that look on her face. "But Draco, can't we 'ave a little bit of fun you and I?"

Draco let go of her arm. "No, I don't think so."

"I'm sure zat I can convince you," Sandrine said, lowering her voice seductively. She pressed herself against him, hooking one of her legs on his hip. He found that he had nowhere to go. She kissed him forcefully on the mouth. As he tried to pull back and slip out from Sandrine's surprisingly strong grip, he heard the door swing open. Sandrine turned her head sharply and Draco caught sight of Hermione standing in the open doorway. Her eyes were wet and her lip was trembling, and the expression on her face made Draco's heart break. He wanted to yell out, to explain, to throw Sandrine off of him, but he was rooted to the spot. He couldn't take his eyes off of Hermione.

Sandrine giggled and moved over, pushing up the strap of her dress that had slipped over her shoulder. "Excusez-moi," she said in a faux-abashed tone.

"Sorry to interrupt," Hermione said, her voice brittle.

"Hermione—wait—" Draco called out, but it was too late. She had turned and fled from the scene. He wanted to cry in frustration. Instead, he turned to Sandrine, hot anger clouding his mind.

"Get out of here. Now. And stay the hell away from me," Draco said through gritted teeth.

Sandrine merely smirked, which caused Draco another surge of anger. "I will give you some time to…cool off. Zen we will see how you feel." She blew him a kiss, gathered her robes, and flitted out of the room.

Draco roared with anger. He wanted to destroy everything in sight, but he kept himself under control. Nothing mattered anymore; Hermione hated him, and now she would never, ever even look at him again. Sandrine was a conniving bitch and Draco couldn't even understand why she was coming onto him. He ran his hands through his hair, ready to pull it out. He couldn't even think anymore. It would do him no good to stick around for the rest of his shift. He was sure if he showed up in Healer Collins' office, Hermione would either hex him to oblivion, or run off and miss the rest of her rounds, which he wouldn't want her to do. He deserved the worst, he knew, but he couldn't face her now. He stormed down to the lobby and out, then Apparated back home.

Hermione couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face as she ran off down the hallway. So that was why Draco had ended things with her. He was seeing Sandrine. Hermione knew she had been right to be worried about that. And who could blame him? Sandrine was one of the most beautiful women Hermione had ever seen. Of course she had charmed Draco. She just couldn't believe he didn't have the decency to tell her that to his face. And he couldn't even wait a whole day to keep from snogging her all over St. Mungo's. She was painfully reminded of Ron and Lavender in their sixth year. She wiped her eyes, knowing they were undoubtedly red and puffy already. She didn't want to shed any more tears over Draco Malfoy.

She composed herself as best she could as she entered Healer Collins' office. He was seated at his desk, sorting through some parchment. He looked up when Hermione entered.

"Good evening Miss Granger. Where is Mister Malfoy?"

Hermione inhaled sharply. "He went home sick." Hermione knew that he wouldn't show up. It was obvious that he was too much of a coward.

"Hm, that's too bad. Well, here's your assignment."

Healer Collins handed her a sheet of parchment. She was at least glad to have a list of tasks to keep her mind off the hurt and betrayal that was threatening to overtake her. All she wanted to do was get her work done, then go home and take a Sleeping Draught to ensure that she would not be haunted by dreams of Draco.

*****

Draco arrived home feeling horrible. He had completely ruined his chances of ever being with Hermione. It had been bad enough to break things off with her, but her walking in and seeing Sandrine all over him had ensured that she would want nothing to do with him ever again. He had wanted to curse the smirk off that vain blonde witch's face, but he found he couldn't even summon the energy. All he could think about was the crushed look on Hermione's face when she had walked into the room. There was nothing in the world he wanted more than to erase that moment from existence.

Draco threw his cloak down on a chair in the main hallway. He planned on going in to the kitchen and pouring himself the strongest drink he could create. As he walked down the hallway, he what appeared to be a scrap of parchment on one of the tables. It was in fact a torn piece of parchment, with only one sentence scrawled across it.

_Your father was not ill when he died._

_

* * *

  
_


End file.
